If You Love Someone
by DoofusPrime
Summary: Back from her trip with Kim, Lindsay has to deal with confusing treatment by her father and the hint of lingering feelings from Nick.  Daniel has his own problems when his D&D sessions with Sam, Neal, and Bill encourage them to invite him to a convention.
1. The Prodigal Daughter

**If You Love Someone**, by DoofusPrime

_**Notes**: Hey, everybody. Here's my first fic for Freaks and Geeks, taking place after Lindsay returns from her trip at the end of the show.__It's going to be 6 chapters in all.**  
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_**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. This work was not created for profit. No copyright infringement is intended._

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**The Prodigal Daughter**

XX

It wasn't the smell of drugs and incense that unsettled Lindsay's stomach. It wasn't that greasy hot dog double value dinner they'd had earlier, although that didn't help. And it wasn't the way the van was jerking and bobbing on a particularly pothole-ridden road, either. Lindsay knew what what bothering her: it was coming home. The road trip was over, they were back in Chippewa, and she'd be reunited with her family at any moment. Normally she enjoyed coming home after a long trip to strange places, but this was different. She knew she hadn't thought things through. By now, they _had_ to know.

"Hey, Lindsay," said Victor, who looked back as he drove the van. "You're not gonna, like, puke all over van, are you? That stuff is hard to clean out. Believe me, I know."

Kim snapped her fingers. "Keep your eyes on the road." She turned to Lindsay. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I was just thinking."

"About what? How you're gonna be in huge trouble when you get home?"

Kim laughed as Lindsay punched her playfully on the arm. Lindsay had brought up the subject before, but it hadn't really sunk in until now. Now that they were minutes from her house. Strands of emotion had been twisting and turning inside her ever since they left the hotel where they had been staying for their last stop on the Grateful Dead tour. The whole drive back had been a weird mixture of contentment, happiness, dread, and guilt. The concert had been amazing – something Lindsay knew she would never forget. Life changing. _Lindsay_ changing. It wasn't just the music, either. It was the fact that she had even _done_ it. The fact that she had chosen it over the academic summit at the University of Michigan. She knew it was a pivotal moment.

But that didn't mean her parents would know. She had done bad things in the past, mostly since she started hanging out with McKinley High School's little band of freaks, but this seemed different. Maybe it was the importance she was assigning to it, the way it felt so monumental, but she couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that grew in the pit of her stomach the closer she got to home. This was even worse than crashing a car - especially since it was that other lady's fault in the first place for going down the driveway without stopping.

Whatever her parents did this time, it would be big.

"Well," said Victor, "here are are. This is where you said, right?"

"Yeah."

Laurie touched her arm as the van slowed down. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"Don't worry, I won't."

The van stopped, and Kim wrenched open the side door with a theatrical flourish. Lindsay looked out at her suburban neighborhood, cloaked in darkness. There was her house. A light was on in the living room window. She had briefly hoped that her parents might be out, just so she could get a few minutes to prepare herself, but her parents didn't go out that much. She'd have to face them now. She stepped out of the van.

"Hey, Lindsay," said Kim.

"Yeah?"

"Daniel said something about hanging out tonight. You wanna meet us in the parking lot at Jimmy's?"

"I dunno, Kim. I might be in a lot of trouble."

"You think?" laughed Kim. "Maybe you can sneak out, though. I mean, what do you care what your parents think after you totally skipped that academic thing? I thought this was, like, some kind of turning point for you."

Lindsay knew her friend was just ribbing her, but something about the comment unsettled her even more. Kim seemed to sense the change in mood and shrugged awkwardly, as if trying to say it was best to ignore anything she said. "Well, just let us know what happens."

Lindsay nodded. She said goodbye to her new friends, Victor and Laurie, before leaving the van behind and heading for her house. She could see movement beyond the living room window, and when she got to the front door, the faint sound of laughing voices reached her from inside. It was hard to tell exactly who it was, but it wasn't her parents; that would have been nice, if they had been in a good mood when she got home. Her brother and his friends were probably over. As for her parents, for all she knew, they were waiting for her in there. Waiting like spiders for her to drop right into their web.

There was nothing left to do but open the door and face her fate.

XX

Bill pounded his fist against the table, shaking a few game dice which were laying nearby and surprising everyone with his unusual display of anger. "There's no _way_ some big monkey can beat a radioactive dinosaur!"

"Look, Bill," said Neal, rolling his eyes, "it's just maneuverability. Monkeys go through trees all the time, so it's not that hard to imagine he can run circles around a bigger opponent! Besides, you said it yourself – you watched the movie with your mom, and the ending made it obvious who won."

"It wasn't obvious," said Bill, "and the movie was wrong."

Sam laughed. "Surely you aren't implying movies can lie, Bill?"

"I am. And don't call me Shirley."

All three of them laughed at this, along with Gordon and Harris, who had both been listening to the argument and trading the occasional amused smirk with each other without contributing much in the way of their own opinions. Daniel was trying to keep up, but he didn't know much about the subject. He didn't know why Bill being called Shirley was so funny, either, but it seemed like some kind of inside joke Sam had set up deliberately. There was something weird about playing a game of D&D with little kids and feeling like _he_ was the one with a lot to learn.

"What do you think, Daniel?" asked Sam. "Who would win, King Kong or Godzilla?"

Daniel shrugged. "Oh, I dunno. I haven't seen much of those movies or anything. I figure Godzilla's a bigger guy, and he breathes fire and stuff, right? That'd probably kick a monkey's ass."

The boys laughed at his comment. Daniel was glad to say something funny, although he noticed Sam's mother give him a quick look as she entered the room, probably having overheard him say 'ass'. He smiled at her, trying his best to be charming, as she set down a tray of cheese and crackers to join the sodas everyone had already grabbed in the kitchen and taken to the living room table. "Are you boys almost done with your game?" she asked them, glancing at her son. "Lindsay should be back soon, and I'm sure she wants a little peace and quiet after her trip."

"Sure, mom. We were just wrapping things up."

Mrs. Weir left the room, giving Daniel another look. He couldn't figure out what it meant., but it still set off a twinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Lindsay's parents knew where she had been, and it was his fault. Sort of. The academic thing at that college, or whatever it was, had called them up to tell them their daughter hadn't arrived when she was supposed to, and since that was about the same time he had come over for his second D&D tournament with Sam and his friends, they had asked Daniel if he knew where their daughter was. They seemed pretty worried, and, well – Daniel couldn't bring himself to lie to them. That wouldn't make Lindsay any less mad at him, though.

"Is she in trouble?" asked Sam.

Daniel nodded. "Yeah, probably."

The table had fallen silent after Mrs. Weir bringing up Lindsay. The Weirs weren't very good at keeping any secrets - like the fact that they were mad, and that Lindsay would probably be coming home to an awkward night. Mr. Weir in particular had been pacing around all night long, barely saying a word to Daniel when he got there. It reminded him of Nick, when his friend been smoking too much and got into one of his rants about his dad.

"Hey," said Sam, "before we go, we were hoping to ask you something."

It took a moment for Daniel to realize Sam was talking to him. The boy glanced at his friends, who glanced back at him nervously, like they were all waiting for Sam to ask him the question. "Yeah?" he asked. "Go ahead."

"Well, we were wondering – I man, it's no big deal, but-"

Sam was about to trail off when Neal interrupted him:

"We were wondering if you wanted to go to a convention with us."

It wasn't a question Daniel had been expecting, but the five boys around the table were already staring, waiting for an answer. Even Harris looked expectant, and he normally acted about as laid back as Daniel. He barely even knew what a convention was. What did you _do_ at a convention? All he knew for sure was that it was something nerdy, although he wasn't sure what, exactly. Not that playing D&D _wasn't_ nerdy, but this was only the third time he was here doing that. As far as Daniel was concerned, it was still just something he was testing out.

"There's lots of cool stuff to do," said Gordon, who looked like he was about to jump out of his seat just at the thought of a convention. "You can dress up like a character if you want, you can buy comics and talk to people who make them-"

"I haven't really read any comics," said Daniel. "Like what kind of comics?"

"Spider-Man, Batman," said Neal. "X-Men."

"How come there's so many comics about weird men?" asked Daniel.

The group looked blankly at each other. Daniel was pleased to see he had stumped them.

"Well, there's comics about anything, really. There's Wonder Woman, too, so it's not all men."

"Is she hot?"

They all nodded in unison.

"Anyway, we could show you some issues. I've got a bunch of them at my house."

Harris stroked his chin, deep in thought. "As do I. I'd be willing to let you borrow a selection, although some of them are shrink-wrapped, so you couldn't actually open them."

"But the convention is in a week or so," added Sam. "You'd have to decide pretty fast."

Daniel wasn't sure. It was true that he was trying different things lately, and this Dungeons & Dragons thing had been pretty fun, but wasn't there such a thing as being _too_ nerdy? Going to a convention – that was the kind of thing people like _Gordon_ did. Although Daniel had to admit that once you got used to the smell, Gordon turned out to be a pretty friendly guy. People at school gave the kid more of a hard time than he deserved.

They were all staring at him and waiting for an answer, which was making him uncomfortable. "Let me think about it, guys," he said. "I mean, I got a really busy schedule for the next week-"

Daniel's lie trailed off at the sound of a car coming down the street. There wasn't much traffic in the Weirs' neighborhood after dark, and so they had been paying attention to every passing car, wondering if it was Lindsay back from her trip. This time, though, they heard the car stopping just outside the driveway – and from the sound of the engine, Daniel thought it was probably a van. A door opened, and faint voices rang out. Daniel recognized Kim's among them. Lindsay was definitely back. He heard her parents moving in the kitchen, saw Mrs. Weir waiting near the front door. Everyone sat in rapt attention, and it was a surprisingly long time before the door finally opened.

"Oh – hey, mom."

"Hello, Lindsay. Welcome back."

Lindsay appeared in the living room entrance. She smiled in confusion at Daniel, who smiled back. Maybe Sam hadn't mentioned their D&D games to his sister yet. "Hey, Sam," she said to her brother. "Hey, everybody."

"Hello, Lindsay," said Neal with exaggerated friendliness. "Nice trip?"

"It was pretty good."

"Learn a lot of things at the academic summit?"

This question came from Bill, who had a faint smile on his face as Sam jabbed him with an elbow under the table. Lindsay's face went white for a moment. Before she could respond, her mother lay a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure your father wants to say hello to you, Lindsay," she said.

"Sure. Where is he?"

"Are you guys about finished?" Mrs. Weir asked everyone at the table. "I know you probably don't have a curfew, Daniel, but Neal, Bill – I'm sure your parents will be unhappy if you come back too late. It may be summer, but it's still a week night."

Daniel exchanged glances with his fellow players, trying to keep from laughing at Mrs. Weir's weird comment, but she had already disappeared down the hall with Lindsay. He felt defensive about not having a curfew, just for a minute, anyway – why did she assume that? But then, it _was_ true. His parents didn't even know where he was most of the time, and when he didn't have to take care of his dad, he liked avoiding them. They weren't friendly the way the Weirs were.

He turned back to Sam, who was putting the game away with his friends while they got ready to leave. "Hey, Sam," he said, "I'm gonna stick around a little while. See how Lindsay's trip was."

"Sure," said Sam with a shrug.

Daniel inched his way out of the living room, not wanting to look like he was eavesdropping. Even though he _was_ totally going to eavesdrop. He heard the sound of voices coming from down the hall – he was pretty sure they were coming from Lindsay's room. Hopefully she wasn't going to get it too hard from them. Maybe they were friendlier than his parents, more caring, but the flip side of parents caring about you as much as the Weirs did was that when you did something they didn't like, sometimes you actually got in trouble for it.

XX

The two of them stared at her as they sat in a pair of chairs in her room. An awkward silence surrounded them; her father, in particular, had pretty much ignored her when she said hello. The sound of the front door shutting came to them from down the hall, and Lindsay knew her parents had been waiting for Sam's friends to leave before they started talking. That was also why they had ended up here in her room, which was more awkward than just talking in the kitchen. She braced herself, getting the feeling that this was going to be painful.

"We know where you were," her father said coldly.

Lindsay didn't know what to say, but she wasn't really surprised.

"Did you really think you could hide something like that?" her mother asked. "It was obvious something was going on when you called us on the phone, with all that noise in the background. And you lied to us, Lindsay."

"It wasn't-"

"We knew what was going on before you even called us, anyway. The university called us before that and said you hadn't gotten to the summit on time. Do you know how worried you made us, Lindsay?"

"We were _very_ worried," agreed her father.

"Luckily for us, Daniel was here at the house, so we could ask him where you really were."

Lindsay was confused. "Why didn't you call me then?"

"We wanted to wait for you to call us first. We wanted to see if you would at least be honest with us once you had gotten where you were going instead."

The way her mother spoke, in a voice tinged with disappointment, made Lindsay lower her eyes, her cheeks flushing with shame. So it had been a test. And once she lied to them, they just let it slide. Waiting for her to come home before they could lay down the hammer. Her father's icy look was adding a worried edge to her shame. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have lied to you."

"I don't think you are sorry, Lindsay."

Her father spoke quietly. It wasn't that he ever screamed at her or anything like that, but he tended to rant and rave when he got riled up about something; Lindsay wasn't used to a quiet voice when he was angry, so it was unsettling her. Now that she had said her piece, her mother seemed to be standing by and letting her husband take care of the punishment. Which was about how it usually went.

"So what are you gonna do?" she asked. "Ground me all summer?"

It came out as impudent, even though Lindsay didn't mean it that way. She was genuinely curious.

"What am I going to do?" asked her father. He looked at his wife.

"We haven't talked about that, honey," said her mother, "but I think-"

"You know," said her father, interrupting, "I don't think we're going to do anything."

Lindsay and her mom both seemed surprised by the comment.

"I don't know what the point is anymore."

The two of them kept staring at him, unsure of what to say, when the bedroom door opened. Daniel's head poked into the room, which sent a mixture of fear, relief, and amusement through her. Maybe her parents would be angry at him, but she welcomed the interruption, and she found it entertaining that Daniel thought he wasn't imposing if he just put his head through the door instead of his whole body. "Hey," he said to them, "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"A little," said Lindsay's mother.

"Oh, well, sorry – I was just wondering if Lindsay wanted to go out tonight."

"I don't think that-"

Lindsay's father interrupted her mother for the second time. "She can go out."

Even Daniel was surprised at this.

"Honey, are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Jean. Lindsay, go ahead and go out."

Lindsay hesitated for a moment, expecting some kind of trap. "Really?"

"What do we care? You're going to do what you want, anyway."

Lindsay frowned at this. It was like her dad was sniping at her, trying to insult her. But did he seriously expect to get to her _this_ way? In a burst of irritation, she joined Daniel at the door. If they really didn't care, then fine. She would go out. Besides - maybe her dad was right. She was going to do what she wanted. High school was almost over, and they had to accept the fact that she needed to figure life out on her own. "Fine," she said. "I'll see you guys later."

Her mother stared haplessly, while her father sat in his chair, looking completely indifferent. Lindsay left with Daniel. The two of them headed to the front door of the house. Daniel seemed to be hurrying in case Lindsay's parents changed their minds. She caught a glimpse of her brother in the kitchen and waved to him before they passed, but she didn't really want to stick around to say much, even though it was her first night back – the whole situation in her bedroom had just been weird. They darted out of the house and closed the front door behind them before heading to Daniel's car.

"Sounded like things were kinda tense in there," laughed Daniel. "I figured you could use a break."

"Yeah, thanks. Um, by the way, I heard you ratted on me to my parents?"

The question stopped Daniel for a moment as Lindsay got into his car. "Hey, come on," he said. "They put on the pressure. I dunno if you noticed, but they really know how to get things out of you! Besides, they were worried."

"Whatever. Let's just go."

Daniel got into the driver's seat and they headed off, his engine blaring and probably waking up everyone in the neighborhood. "By the way," she asked, "what were you doing at my house, anyway?"

"Oh, just hangin' out," said Daniel. "Playin' a game with your brother and his friends."

Lindsay gave him a questioning look and scrunched her nose up in amusement, but she didn't bother probing him for more information. She'd hear more about it later, and her mind was so occupied that she forgot about it almost immediately.

As they drove, headlights cutting through the darkness of ahead of them, Lindsay felt like she could use a pair of her own headlights. She didn't know what was coming, and her dad's reaction had thrown her into a cloud of nervous confusion. Beneath her veneer of a good mood, beneath the idle chatter she was trading with Daniel, she couldn't shake that seed of guilt that was now steadily growing. Before she had gotten home it was more of a nervous anticipation of her punishment, but now it was definitely guilt. What made it even weirder was that, despite the guilt, she knew she had done the right thing in going on that trip.

Her father had never acted like that before. Acting like he didn't care what she did. She almost wished they had just grounded her; better the devil you knew, after all.

XX

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_**Notes**: That's it for the first chapter. Hopefully you guys enjoyed it, and I would appreciate any reviews and feedback. I'll probably update about once a week - and I am already essentially finished with the story in rough form, so don't worry, it will all be posted._


	2. They Shoot, They Miss

**They Shoot, They Miss**

XX

After almost two weeks on the road, it was good to see her friends again. After some aimless evening cruising around town, the group had settled in Nick's basement: their most reliable hangout spot. Lindsay was happy to sit back and let Kim do most of the talking as their friends asked about the Grateful Dead tour. She wasn't feeling all that talkative. The way her father had reacted was still lingering on the edge of her mind, just enough to dampen what should have been a great night back with her friends. But that was okay. Kim was a bigger talker, anyway.

Of course, one of the first topics of conversation was what kind of drugs they'd taken. Lindsay didn't have much to say about that, as she had generally avoided any drugs, even thought the opportunities had definitely come up. Kim, in an excited mood from seeing the rest of her friends again, was talking up a storm about being baked during every show, as well as tripping on acid a few times. But Lindsay knew full well Kim was making most of it up - maybe she was baked once or twice, but she hadn't done anything harder than that.

She didn't know why her friend was making things up while the two of them were sitting right beside each other on the couch. Maybe Kim knew Lindsay wasn't going to rat on her. When Kim turned and gave her a quick wink after a particularly ridiculous story about some nude dancing, Lindsay smiled, realizing she was just having some fun and taking the rest of their friends for a ride.

"But yeah," finished Kim, "I never saw so many naked guys before."

Daniel waved dismissively at her. "Gimme a break," he said, "you're just makin' stuff up." He tried to look indifferent, but it was obvious that he was feeling insecure, even though Kim wasn't even _trying_ to make the story sound realistic. "Besides, those guys on the trip would all be hairy hippies."

"Better than shaved hippies," Ken pointed out as he leaned against his girlfriend.

"Don't lie," said Amy. "Shaved hippies are your favorite."

"You got me."

"So what about you?" Daniel asked Lindsay. "Hook up with any hotties?"

Lindsay laughed nervously. "What? No. It's not about hooking up or anything – everybody was just having fun and enjoying themselves. The band was pretty awesome. You would have liked their drummer, Nick."

Nick shook his head emphatically "Nah, probably not. The Grateful Dead don't have enough cool rolls and fills and stuff, like Led Zeppelin." He glanced nervously at his girlfriend almost before he finished speaking. "Uh, plus you can't really dance to them," he added.

Sara, who looked like she hadn't even heard his original comment, smiled at him and gave him a peck on the cheek. Nick's girlfriend hadn't been out with them while they were driving around, but she had joined them when they got to his house. Although it was still a bit awkward having her around, since she wasn't exactly a regular part of the group, everybody seemed to accept her being there. Even Ken hadn't made any mean comments. Lindsay wondered if had been getting used to her while she and Kim were off on tour together.

After that day at the disco, Lindsay had also been wondering if it was true that Nick was going out with Sara just to try the jealousy angle. Trying to get back together with her. She had given it a 50/50 chance they'd be broken up when she got back from her trip, but maybe Nick really _was_ interested in Sara. She hoped she would fit in all right. The girl was a little bubbly for the group, but Lindsay liked her - and she remembered she had once been the odd girl out, too. She thought Sara and Nick went well together, as Sarah was almost as clingy with Nick as Nick had been with her.

"So what have you guys been up to?" she asked.

"I've been trying to teach Ken to play the tuba," said Amy. "But he's not a good learner."

"Yeah. 'Cause it's boring."

Lindsay smirked. Ken didn't seem like he'd be a good fit for marching band, anyway.

"Sara got me a couple of cool disco albums," said Nick. "You should check them out sometime, Lindsay. I mean, like – I meant you should come by when me and Sara are listening to them."

Everyone in the group gave Nick an awkward look, and Lindsay noticed Ken rolling his eyes in exasperation. She sensed a weird vibe coming, and tried to head it off before it started. She didn't want Sara in particular to pick up on it, although tonight she wasn't really introspective enough to figure out exactly why. "Um, that's cool. Oh, and you guys never told me how your dances turned out."

"You mean at that tournament?" asked Sara. "Nick was amazing. There was some other guy who had these really amazing magic tricks, but those were against the rules, anyway, so he probably got disqualified."

"Exactly," added Nick. "And that place kind of sucked, anyway. It got shut down."

"What? Seriously?"

"Yeah. It turned into a place for Foxy Boxing."

"What's that?"

"It's like hot women boxing each other and stuff," said Daniel. "In other words, like ten times better than some stupid disco club. Right, Ken?"

Ken looked like he was about to agree, but something about having his girlfriend curled up beside him made him hesitate. Daniel noticed Kim shooting daggers at him two, and Lindsay couldn't help letting out a little snort of laughter as the two of them looked like they were about to shrink into their seats. "That's what I heard, anyway," said Daniel. "I haven't checked the place out or anything."

The conversation went into a lull, and Lindsay couldn't resist pressing Daniel. "Okay," she said, "so, what exactly _were_ you doing at my house? Were you seriously playing Dungeons & Dragons with my brother?"

Daniel laughed. The rest of the group turned to him, waiting for an answer, and when he fell silent after his laughter trailed off, it was answer enough. Lindsay immediately regretted asking; maybe she had just put Daniel on the spot. She thought it was amusing, but she hadn't meant to embarrass him. There wasn't anything wrong with playing Dungeons & Dragons, anyway. She actually thought the mental image of Daniel playing D&D with Sam was kind of endearing, although that probably wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Wait a minute," said Nick, "you were playing _that?_"

"There's no way," laughed Kim. "Since when are you interested in nerd stuff?"

Daniel crossed his arms defensively and leaned back in his chair. "It's just a game," he said. "It's not that nerdy, either – you guys just haven't tried it."

Ken stared impassively. "Dude. You roll dice and stuff."

"Yeah. So? You roll dice in gambling."

"Yeah, but you don't roll them to figure out if you hit somebody with your orc sword."

"That's not even a thing," said Daniel angrily. "An orc sword, what's that even-"

But the rest of the group had dissolved into helpless laughter. Lindsay couldn't help laughing at Ken's comment, too, but she cut off abruptly when Daniel narrowed his eyes at her. She shrugged apologetically. The rest of them were just giving him a hard time; she was sure he'd get over it. It was kind of cool to see him broadening his horizons, anyway. Being who he wanted to be, doing what he wanted to do, regardless of what anybody else thought he should do. After all, it was the same thing she had been doing.

XX

The house was still and silent as Harold crept down the dark hallway, not wanting to turn on the light in case it woke up his wife or son. He reached the kitchen, flipped a light switch and blinked at the sudden harsh glare, and shuffled towards the cupboards. All night he'd been twisting and turning in bed, failing to find sleep. He thought he'd get a glass of water since it was obvious he'd be up all night anyway. But Harold knew it wouldn't help.

He could see that afternoon at the bus station clear as day: him and Jean, Sam and his two friends, all waving Lindsay on as she headed off the academic summit. Studying with the best and brightest at the University of Michigan – and she wasn't even a college student yet! Harold didn't often express his emotions very easily, but he had been worried about losing control and looking foolish that afternoon, considering the way his heart had felt like it was about to burst with pride.

Sure, it was only two weeks, and sure, Lindsay had done some great things with her time in the Mathletes, but this academic summit had felt like a turning point to him. After all the trouble those friends of hers had been causing for her (even if he sympathized with that Nick boy because of his family situation and his ability to appreciate Buddy Rich and Gene Krupa on the kit) it was like Lindsay was turning a new leaf. Recognizing the value of hard work and screwing her head on straight. Harold had told himself he'd make sure to let her know, when she got back, just how proud he was of her. His own father had never done that for him, and he knew how important it was for a child to hear something like that. And so he had waited for Lindsay's return, imagining what the future held for her.

Until the call arrived to let them know their daughter hadn't even gotten to the university.

As he stood by the kitchen stink and sipped his glass of water, Harold heard a car pulling up into the driveway. Down the hall, he noticed the faint flash of headlights coming from the living room. Lindsay was back. The noise made him freeze in place for a moment – what to do? Did he want to talk to his daughter? Did he even want to see her right now? After Daniel told them where she was that day, his anger and disbelief had subsided while they waited for her to come home, but he still felt a deep disappointment in his daughter. And he honestly didn't know how to handle things with her anymore.

The house's front door opened and closed, and as the car pulled out of the driveway and sped off, Lindsay appeared in the kitchen, surprised to see Harold there. "Hey, dad," she said.

"Hello."

The two of them stood quietly for a moment. Harold took a sip of his water.

"Well, goodnight."

He nodded as his daughter went off down the hall. Another door closed as she retreated into her room for the night. They had both ignored the heavy weight smothering both of them, but in a way, Harold was relieved. He knew that at this point, there wasn't much he could say or do to change anything. Lecturing her would just push her away. For all he knew, she'd run off on some tour again and disappear for the rest of the summer. He felt like he had tried every trick in the book, but there was just no getting through to her.

The glass was empty. Harold turned off the light and crept back through the hall, past the sliver of light shining from beneath Lindsay's door. He entered his own bedroom, stubbing his toe on the corner of a bedpost and swearing quietly as he tried to ease himself beneath the covers. As he settled down, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered if he'd just have to wake up again later to go to the bathroom. Just as he was about to shut his eyes and try to nod off, his wife, whom he had thought was sleeping, sat up in bed and turned on the bedside lamp.

"Lindsay's home?"

Harold nodded.

"Did you guys have a talk?"

He shook his head.

"I was kind of surprised at how you handled it when she got home, Harold. Do you really think letting her go out and have fun with her friends was the right approach?"

"I don't know," he said. "I just didn't know what to do. I still don't know what to do."

Jean settled back in her pillow. The two of them were both lost in thought.

Harold really didn't know. He and his wife hadn't talked about how they were actually going to punish Lindsay when she got home - maybe because they both knew this was more serious than usual, and neither wanted to talk about it much. When his daughter was home, standing there right in front of him, Harold had been overcome by a sense of hopelessness, like all the life had seeped out of his limbs. He had tried to get through to her, time and time again; what else was he supposed to do? They had grounded her before; it did nothing. It was clear that she didn't respect them. That the more they tried to stop her, the more she'd just ignore her own good sense and theirs.

And that left Harold with no options. Maybe there _wasn't_ anything to do. At some point, you had to cut your losses and realize you couldn't help someone who didn't want your help. Jean turned off the light, and as Harold settled in beneath the covers, he felt himself finally beginning to nod off. Somehow, he didn't think he'd be waking up rested and refreshed in the morning.

XX

"He shoots, he scores!"

Unfortunately, Nick had spoken too soon. The basketball went ricocheting off the rim, bouncing across the court and past a nearby copse of trees before rolling to a stop on the grass far away. Fortunately, Nick had only been talking to himself, and no one was around to see him make a fool of himself. He chuckled as he jogged over to pick up the ball. It was a nice morning, filled with green grass and cheerful chirping birds, but Nick hadn't noticed any of that. He had barely made any baskets so far, either. There was too much on his mind.

Hanging out with everyone last night had been a lot of fun, and of course he loved spending time with his girlfriend, but seeing Lindsay had been cool. She and Kim sounded like they had a lot of fun on the tour – even though Nick wasn't a deadhead, their stories had made him a little jealous. That one guy, Victor, didn't know how lucky he was to be driving a van around the country with three hot chicks along for the ride. But he was glad Lindsay was back. Knowing he could hang out with her for the rest of the summer was putting a smile on his face. Maybe too big of a smile, the more he thought about it.

It wasn't that he didn't like Sara – he totally did – but he had to admit it was hard to get over Lindsay completely. She was just a cool girl. She had pretty much everything a guy could want. And as far as Nick was concerned, she had a way of leading him on sometimes. Maybe it was just that his last girlfriend had been totally crazy, but well, the way Lindsay was always nice to him, doing things like stopping by to wish him luck during a disco tournament. It couldn't just be that she was a friendly person, could it? And the way she had been all awkward around him last night, too. He couldn't help feeling like she was sending signals. Maybe that time at the disco night before she left for her trip, before it got shut down and turned into Foxy Boxing, he _hadn't_ just been imagining something between them.

The only question was whether he was going to do anything about it.

Nick was about to go for a slam dunk when he noticed Lindsay's brother and his friends coming down the street past the little park where he was playing on the basketball court He stumbled awkwardly, breaking off in mid-dunk, and ran towards them. "Hey, guys!" he said. The three of them looked surprised that someone was calling to them, but he had gotten their attention. "What's up?"

"Hi, Nick" said Sam.

Neal and Bill both nodded. "Hello."

"What are you guys up to? Just going for a walk?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"So I heard Daniel was playing that board game with you guys, huh?"

"Dungeons & Dragons," said Bill.

"Huh?"

"That's what it's called. Dungeons & Dragons."

"Oh, cool. What do you do, like make characters and fight bad guys and stuff?"

"That's correct," said Neal. "Our friend Daniel created the infamous Carlos the Dwarf."

Nick couldn't help laughing along with Sam and his friends at the ridiculous name. He would have guessed Daniel would make something more badass than a dwarf. The four of them trailed off laughing and stood uncomfortably together for a moment. Nick tried to remember why he had run over and stopped them in the first place – it was mostly just an impulse – when he realized he wanted to try to ply Sam for information. It was too bad that he didn't know how to be very sneaky about it. He decided to just take the direct route.

"So, uh, hey, Sam," he said, "How's your sister doing?"

"She's doing alright. She got our mom and dad pretty angry at her for skipping that summit."

"Yeah, I'll bet. So is she happy to be back?"

"I think so," said Sam, a little more hesitantly.

"Has she said anything about me – like, missing me while she was gone or anything?"

The three of them exchanged confused glances with each other. Nick realized that even for taking the direct approach, that question was too obvious. "Well, I just meant since she might be jealous of my girlfriend or something," he added hastily, trying his best to do some damage control. "I don't want Lindsay feeling threatened just because I'm with Sara, you know? Since we have a history and everything."

Before Sam could answer, Nick felt a hand slap his back hard enough to make him drop the basketball. It was Daniel; Nick had been expecting his friend to arrive for a while, as they had mentioned shooting some hoops the night before. Neal almost tripped over the basketball when it bumped against his legs, but Sam picked it up and threw it back. "Hey, guys," said Daniel. "What's up?"

"Not much," said Nick. "Just talking about dwarves. Right guys?"

Sam and his friends laughed, but Daniel didn't look that amused.

"I can't believe you like that game, dude."

"I'm just tryin' it out."

"He's actually pretty good," said Sam. "He ended up rescuing the princess the first time he played."

"Oh, man" laughed Nick. "Daniel, you totally rescued the Princess. Did she want some dwarf love?"

"Shut up, man."

Nick laughed at the sour glare Daniel was giving him, passing his friend the basketball. Daniel threw it back, unnecessarily hard, and Nick caught it as it smacked into his chest, knocking a puff of air from his lungs. _Somebody's in a bad mood_, he thought resentfully.

"Hey, Daniel," said Sam, "what about that convention?"

"What about it?"

Nick looked back and forth between Sam and Daniel, sensing another entertaining development.

"You said you wanted to go to that comic book convention?"

"No, I didn't," said Daniel, catching Nick's look.

"Well, I don't remember – I thought you said-"

"Look, I don't wanna go to some dumb convention, okay? I was just tryin' out a game a few times, that doesn't mean I'm gonna turn into Doctor McNerdlington or whatever. Just don't get the wrong idea, that's all."

The outburst surprised Nick. He could tell that Sam and Bill were both disappointed at Daniel's reaction by the way they hung the heads down a little, although Neal looked just as amused as Nick was over the McNerdlington comment. "Oh, that's cool," said Sam.

After an awkward pause, Sam and his friends headed back off down the street as Nick and Daniel turned back towards the basketball court. Daniel's strange turn to nerdy interests had amused Nick, but he felt bad about what had just happened. "That was kinda harsh, dude," he said.

"Whatever. You're the one who thinks that stuff is stupid."

Nick shrugged haplessly. He did think Dungeons & Dragons seemed kind of stupid, but he hadn't meant it like _that_. Daniel could do whatever he wanted – he was just giving his friend a hard time, that was all. And he hadn't expected it to end up hurting Lindsay's brother's feelings. Sam seemed like a cool kid. Nick had even been thinking about inviting him and his friends to shoot a few hoops, even if it was a long shot that they'd be interested. No chance he'd get them to try it now, though, and they were already halfway down the street.

The two of them began to play silently, Daniel still looking ruffled over the talk with Sam and his friends, and Nick still feeling guilty about it. His guilt didn't last for long, though. For one thing, he had to concentrate more on making the shots now that Daniel was blocking him. And besides that, the same thing that had been on his mind all night and all morning came creeping back. He knew it was wrong to think about since he was with Sara and all, but he just couldn't help thinking about it. He could _swear_ something had been going with Lindsay last night.

"Hey, Daniel," he said. "Do you think Lindsay still likes me?"

Daniel's three-point shot went so wide that it didn't even touch the net.

"Come on, man, not _that_ again!"

XX

* * *

_**Notes**: Well, here's chapter two. Let me know what you guys think, and thanks for the reviews so far. :)_


	3. Parents Just Don't Understand

**Parents Just Don't Understand**

XX

With the way Millie was wriggling around in her seat, Lindsay thought she was going to fall off her stool and go sprawling out across the floor. She flinched as her friend kept shifting position, unable to sit still. Anything really sugary tended to do that to her. The two of them were sitting in a café and sipping on a couple of milkshakes they had gotten after lunch; coupled with Lindsay's stories about the Grateful Dead tour, Millie was unable to stop fidgeting with excitement. Lindsay had worried about whether she would be jealous at first, but Millie seemed to be perfectly happy hearing about all the fun she and Kim had had together.

"I swear," said Lindsay, "it was some totally random woman that came out. We were banging on the wrong van the whole time, we just got confused in the dark!"

Millie laughed uproariously at the end of the story, dropping her straw on the floor and leaning over to pick it up as a few people glanced over at their table. Lindsay was glad her friend enjoyed the story, although the mix up had been embarrassing at the time. "Sorry you couldn't come," she said. "I think you would have liked it."

"That's okay. I think I already had my brush with rebellion, you know? It sounds too crowded for me, anyway."

"Probably," agreed Lindsay. "Hey, have you talked to Kim since we got back?"

"Yeah, we went shopping the other day. She said she doesn't like to buy new clothes though," said Millie with a laugh. "She wants old thrift stuff. Isn't that weird?"

"Maybe she can't afford the new stuff."

Millie shrugged, sipping on her milkshake.

"So, what are you going to be up to this summer?"

"Well, I have a church camp coming up in a couple of weeks. And some of the Mathletes were thinking of doing some summer studying. We really miss you, Lindsay."

Lindsay smiled uncomfortably. Being a Mathlete, as much as she had enjoyed it in the past, was just that – part of the past. Not only that, but even if she _was_ interested in that anymore, summer studying didn't sound like her idea of a good time. Not that this summer was turning out all that great, now that she had gotten home. Her fun trip with Kim had turned into awkward days and nights at the Weir house, with her dad tiptoeing around her like she was a leper. She'd been trying to spend as much time out with her friends as possible to avoid the atmosphere, but somehow that had only been making her feel more uncomfortable.

"What about you?" asked Millie. "What are your plans?"

Lindsay shrugged. "Hang out with my friends," she said, almost flinching for a moment after wondering if she had somehow implied Millie was not a part of that group. To be painfully honest, she wasn't. She liked Millie, but they weren't friends the way they used to be, which even Millie had said before. The main reason they were hanging out now was because Lindsay wanted to complain about the situation with her dad, but hadn't been able to find the words to do it. She got the feeling Millie probably wouldn't be very helpful, anyway.

"So you're not in any trouble about skipping the academic summit?"

Lindsay shook her head. "I thought I would be, but not really."

"That's pretty weird. Your parents didn't ground you?"

"Nope." This was an easy enough opening to bring up her problem. "My dad just sort of gave up or something. Like he just said, hang out with your friends, do whatever you want. So that's what I'm doing. Still, it kinda bugs me, you know? It's like he's being childish."

"Your parents care about you," said Millie. "They're just worried they can't control you!"

"Well, yeah, but why _should_ they control me? I don't want to be controlled. I'm not like their pet."

"I didn't mean it like that," said Millie with a frown.

As the conversation had gotten more serious, her fidgeting was dying down. The two of them sipped their milkshakes thoughtfully as they watched people passing back and forth on the sidewalk outside of the café window. "It's just that it's easier to go along with them sometimes," she continued. "Your parents usually know what's best, and there's no reason to cause trouble just to have a little fun."

From the way she talked, Lindsay got the feeling Millie was thinking more about herself than anyone else. She was obviously interested in hearing about the fun Lindsay had on the trip, but Lindsay hadn't offered for her to go along, mainly because she knew Millie wouldn't be interested. Almost going to The Who's concert before they'd admitted to running over Goliath was the apex of her rebelliousness. And it sounded like Millie hadn't gotten in any real trouble for talking back to her mother that day, which was a good thing.

But maybe Millie was only in the clear because she had ended up doing what her parents wanted. Lindsay wasn't sure how that would work for her. She didn't know what she wanted, but she _did_ know what her parents wanted. Her dad in particular. They wanted her focusing on her work, giving it a hundred and ten percent. All day, every day. The way her dad looked at things, there was just no room for seeing what life had to offer. What was worse was that Lindsay wasn't a bum – she _did_ her work, and she did well, seeing as she had been invited to the summit in the first place.

But that wasn't enough for her father. She just wished he could trust her to make her own choices.

XX

It was an awkward evening at the Weir house, and everyone in the family knew why. The Weirs sat eating dinner together, and while Jean made the occasional comment, they were quieter than usual. Not only that, but Lindsay was starting to feel bloated. Her mother had made them a big dinner, and coupled with the milkshakes she and Millie had enjoyed for lunch, she wasn't feeling that hungry anymore.

"So how's Millie doing?" asked her mother.

"Pretty good."

And with that question, everyone went back to eating silently. Lindsay poked and prodded at her food, but she was already just about done. She noticed her brother wasn't eating much, either. After he wolfed down his own food, Harold pointed his fork at his son's plate. "Eat up," he said. "Your mother worked hard to make you that."

"Actually," said Jean, "it was all pre-made. It took five minutes."

Harold grumbled. "It's the principle of the thing, honey."

"Hey, dad?"

Sam put his silverware down and looked expectantly at his father. Now Lindsay realized why he hadn't been eating; her brother always behaved like that when he wanted to ask a favor, but wasn't sure if their parents would grant it. Lindsay did the same thing herself, of course, but she always noticed it with her brother.

"What is it, son?"

"Well, Neal and Bill and I were wondering if it was okay if we could go to a convention."

"A what?"

"A comic book convention. It's like a big event where you can see cool stuff related to comics."

"Where is this convention? And how are you supposed to get to it?"

"We were hoping we could get somebody to drive us there. Neal and Bill and Gordon all want to go. It's in New Jersey."

Lindsay's dad almost spit out his food at Sam's comment, causing Lindsay, her brother, and her mom to give a startled jerk in their seats. "New Jersey?" he asked incredulously. "That's _hours_ away! You know I can't drive you there. I have to run the shop."

"Well, we were hoping we could get Daniel to come along and drive us, but he didn't want to."

"Daniel? Are you kidding me?"

"He can drive, can't he?"

Sam was asking Lindsay, but Lindsay shrugged, not wanting to rile her dad up anymore. She could have told Sam that her dad wouldn't have sprung for Daniel driving them to the convention – that was pretty obvious. "That kid would send you all flying into a ditch in a ball of fire," said her father. "Besides, I don't know about this convention thing, anyway. Sounds like a place to get into trouble and hang out with deviants."

"Um, we've been to conventions before."

"Yeah, but – look, I'm just saying, why can't the Weir family spend a little time together over the summer? You already spend so much time with your friends - why can't you spend a little more time with your family, Sam?"

"I'm not the one going out all the time!" said Sam. "She's the one who's always breaking the rules. And I don't get why Lindsay can go on some band tour and we can't even go to a stupid convention."

Their father slammed his knife and fork down on the table in exasperation. "Because Lindsay does what she wants, Sam. And I haven't given up on you yet."

The table went dead silent. Harold went back to eating his food, while Lindsay noticed her mother staring down at her own plate. Lindsay felt her father's last comment like a slap in the face. Sam was surprised, too, and when she glanced up, even her mother looked shocked at what her husband had said. Harold looked quickly at his daughter with a flustered look in his eyes, almost like he was about to apologize; but then got up and took his empty plate silently into the kitchen. Dinner was over, even if Lindsay and her brother hadn't finished their own food.

"May I be excused?" asked Sam.

Their mother nodded. Sam got up and left the table, heading for his room. Lindsay stayed for a moment, sitting quietly and thinking about what her father had said. Giving up on her. Like she was a criminal case or something. She felt her face hardening into a glower.

"Lindsay," said her mother, "he didn't mean it that way."

"Sure."

Lindsay got up and left the kitchen. She was about to go to her room when she decided to visit her brother instead. She stepped inside his room and closed the door; Sam was laying back on his bed, flipping idly through a comic book. Lindsay sat down on the bed beside him. "So you really asked Daniel to go to a convention with you?" she asked.

"Yeah. But he's not going, anyway. Dad wasn't even listening – I just wanted to know if me and Bill and Neal could go, but he got all upset about Daniel."

"Why isn't Daniel going?"

"He said it was too nerdy."

Her brother went back to his comic book, acting like it didn't matter, but Lindsay could tell he was bothered by Daniel's rejection. She felt herself becoming angry; tonight was definitely a roller coaster of emotions. First, she was shocked and upset at her father's comment; then angry at the thought of Daniel saying that to her brother; and probably, before too long, an upset stomach from eating too much today.

Technically, she agreed with Daniel – a comic convention sounded about as boring as watching grass grow. But then, Dungeons & Dragons was pretty nerdy too, not something she'd ever be interesting in playing, and yet Daniel had been playing with her brother. For him to spend time with Sam and his friends, act like they were getting along, and then turn the convention down and act like it was beneath him? It was just mean. Lindsay was feeling defensive towards her brother, and very annoyed at Daniel.

"Do _you_ think I'm nerdy?"

Her brother had put the comic book down and was sitting up in bed. For a moment, Lindsay had to suppress her laughter; there was something kind of funny about her brother asking her if she thought he was nerdy right after putting down a comic book he was reading. He _was_ kind of nerdy. But there wasn't anything wrong with that, of course. And it was obvious he was feeling insecure about it.

"You're a little bit nerdy, Sam. But so what?"

Her brother shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes it just sucks, having to think about how everything looks to girls and stuff, and what people think about you. Apparently you can't play Dungeons & Dragons and go to conventions if you want to be cool."

"Sam," said Lindsay, reaching over and tousling her brother's hair, "you don't have to think about how everything looks, or what people think about you. That stuff only matters if you let it. And besides, even if you like nerdy stuff, you were cool enough to go out with Cindy Sanders, right? She's like the hottest girl in your grade. And you decided you weren't even interested in her that way."

"Neal and Bill thought I blew my chances to be cool when I did that. Cindy was like my cool pass."

Lindsay laughed. "They're just pulling your leg. And things get easier when you get older, anyway. People don't care as much about stuff like that. I mean, I started out on the Mathletes, and now I hang out with a bunch of people everybody else thinks are freaks, and I just went on a tour with a bunch of hippies.

"And you know what else," added Lindsay, her brother paying rapt attention, "remember Neal's big brother, when we went to that party? Well, he told me it was even cooler in college – people just want to hang out, they don't care at all about some clique or label, you know? You can just be yourself and not worry about that stuff."

"Yeah. College sounds pretty cool."

"Well, you're still a ways a way from that. But in the meantime, don't worry. You're about as cool as a dorky little brother can get."

"That's _such_ a nice thing to say," said Sam in an exaggerated tone. The two of them grinned at each other. Lindsay was just about to ask him what comic book he was reading when they heard the phone ringing in the kitchen. She listened, curious to see who it was, and kind of hoping it was one of her friends. She couldn't hang out in her brother's room all night - and after that weird episode at the dinner table, it was probably best to go out. After a moment, her mother popped her head into the room.

"Lindsay," she said, "it's Nick on the phone."

She sat on the bed without moving for a moment. Nick _was_ a friend. But something made her hesitate. Her mother frowned sympathetically, noticing Lindsay's reticence.

"Do you want me to tell him you're not here?"

"Oh, no, that's okay," she said as she got up from the bed. "That's all in the past – we're cool now."

"Okay. I thought maybe he was being awkward again."

"Nah, nothing like that. I'll talk to him. See you, Sam."

"See you."

Lindsay headed for the kitchen. She realized she had been hesitant because, over the last few days – even during that first night she got back from the tour, actually, and even before that when she saw him before his disco competition – she had suspected that Nick still had feelings for her. He wasn't very good at hiding stuff like that. It was in the way he talked to her, the exaggerated way he acted towards Sara, like he was trying to convince everyone she was her girlfriend. Lindsay didn't know how to feel about Nick's feelings for her. She couldn't deny that there had been some lingering feelings after their breakup, but at the same time, she had broken up with him for a reason. She didn't want to get caught in that trap again.

XX

"It's like he's been giving me the silent treatment."

"Yeah, I know exactly what you're talking about. Not that me and my dad would have much to talk about anyways. It's not like we have anything in common, you know?"

Lindsay was glad Nick understood where she was coming from. She had been worried about coming over to his house at first, and just like she suspected, she was his only guest. But as it turned out, she was glad to have someone to listen to her venting about her problems with her father. Millie couldn't really relate in the same way, and the way the two of them thought about things nowadays was too different. Nick, however, knew all about father trouble.

"It's like he thinks the only way to achieve anything in life is to work all the time and do nothing else. Like I'm a lost cause, just because I didn't go to some stupid summit that probably wouldn't have been interesting in the first place. I mean, I already know what kinds of people would be at a thing like that – the same kind of people in the Mathletes. Some of them are nice, yeah, but a lot of them are just completely full of themselves."

"I wouldn't know," said Nick. "I guess when I was playing basketball some people could really be jerks and stuff. Like they'd always expect you to practice every single day, like you had nothing else to do, you know?"

"Exactly!"

Lindsay trailed off for a moment, wondering if she was being hypocritical. In the past, she had been critical towards Nick about giving up basketball except for the occasional game with Daniel. With the drums, too, Lindsay had always been pressuring him to apply himself. But it wasn't the same, she told herself. When it came to underachievement and selling himself short, Nick had a chronic problem – no pun intended. Maybe Lindsay wasn't that interested in academic summits, but she still worked hard. She still applied herself. Her father just didn't recognize that.

"Still," said Nick, "you're pretty lucky. I mean, my dad would have flipped out if he found out I skipped out on some really important thing and went on some concert tour instead. He'd probably have me shipped off to basic training as soon as I got back."

The comment was meant to be funny, but neither of them laughed. Lindsay knew he had a point. Compared to Nick's father, hers was easygoing. But she had been punished before, and somehow this total lack of punishment was even worse. She didn't know how to deal with it. Maybe, in the end, Nick didn't really understand, either. Lindsay was about to remark on the amazing lack of marijuana accessories in his basement when the two of them heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Nick frowned as Daniel, Ken, and Kim appeared.

"Hey," said Daniel, noticing his friend's expression. "Way to welcome us to the party. Hey, Lindsay."

Lindsay nodded curtly to Daniel, still annoyed by how he had treated her brother.

"What's up, girl!" said Kim, plopping down on the couch beside Lindsay and giving her a hug.

"Not much. Just hanging out with Nick."

"So, what are you guys doing here?" asked Nick.

"Oh, we just thought we'd stop by," said Daniel.

Nick turned to Ken. "I thought you had plans with your girlfriend."

"She was busy. Besides, I just _really_ wanted to hang out with you and Lindsay."

Lindsay wondered how Ken even knew she would be here. Judging by the way Nick seemed unpleasantly surprised by their appearance, he hadn't been expecting them around, even though he had told her when she got there that he had invited everyone else but they'd all been too busy to come. She grinned as she remembered that moment before the tour when Nick had been about to sing her a song, and Ken smashed his guitar all over the road. Nick had been fidgeting all night, just like Millie had been doing earlier that afternoon, like he was just itching to tell her something. She couldn't help wondering if Ken had stopped by and brought Daniel and Kim along with him to help keep Nick from doing something embarrassing again. Just like with that guitar.

She was glad they had stopped by; she didn't really want to deal with any awkward love confessions from Nick. She would deal with that when she had to, but she had enough problems already. But although she wanted to enjoy hanging out with her friends, she couldn't stop herself from glaring icily at Daniel.

"What'd I do?" he asked, noticing her look.

"You told my brother you weren't going with him to the convention."

"Well, yeah, I didn't really feel like-"

"And you said he was a nerd."

"Hey, now, I didn't say that," protested Daniel. "I said a convention sounded nerdy, that's all."

"Uh oh," said Kim, who had shifted over to lie on Daniel's lap. "You're in trooouble."

Lindsay had to admit that maybe she had remembered her brother's comment wrong. But she was still angry at Daniel. He wasn't obligated to go to some convention, but whatever he had said, it had been enough to make her brother insecure. The five of them settled down into the basement together, not saying much, as Lindsay had unintentionally soured the atmosphere with her accusation.

"Well," said Ken, "_this_ is fun."

Lindsay sighed. Maybe she would have been better off staying home tonight.


	4. Wise Counsel

**Wise Counsel**

XX

This was the address: 425 Baker Street. Something about the name of the street seemed appropriate, too. Mr. Rosso definitely looked like he had gotten baked one too many times in the days of free love and flower children. Lindsay hesitated as she stood on her school guidance counselor's porch, holding the outer screen door open so she could knock on the front door. Visiting a teacher over the summer felt weird – almost like it was against some kind of unwritten rule, even – but she wanted to talk to _someone_. Millie and the rest of her friends hadn't been able to help.

After her knock, she waited. It wasn't long before the door opened to Mr. Rosso's familiar bearded face.

"Well look who it is! Lindsay, what a pleasant surprise!"

"Hey, Mr. Rosso."

"Please, just call me Jeff."

"Um, I think I'll stick to calling you Mr. Rosso, if you don't mind. I'm used to it."

"That's cool with me, Lindsay. Come on in!"

Mr. Rosso stepped aside and beckoned for her to enter. Lindsay took a tentative step, wondering why it was so strange visiting a teacher's home. After all, even though Mr. Rosso could be pretty dorky, he seemed like a nice guy overall – it wasn't like she was visiting Mr. Kowchevski for advice. She found herself in the living room, taking in the sights. Although she sniffed curiously, trying to catch a certain scent she had gotten so used to smelling in Nick's basement, nothing like that was lingering in Mr. Rosso's house, surprisingly.

But she could definitely see his hippie roots. An wooden incense burner sitting on an end table over by the corner; a bizarre, kitschy lamp topped with some kind of half-psychedelic, half-stained-glass shade; even a Grateful Dead poster, framed and hung prominently on the wall behind the couch. A few books were piled up on the coffee table. _Catch-22_ was on the top, which Lindsay remembered enjoying, and strewn beside the books were folders and papers that looked related to Mr. Rosso's job as guidance counselor.

"A teacher's work is never done," he said, noticing the objects of her attention. "Even in summer."

He gathered up the papers and tapped them against the table to form a neat stack, placing them back into an open folder and transferring it to the end table across the room. Lindsay wondered if they were confidential. She sometimes wondered if he kept files on all the McKinley High School students. She wondered what might be in her file. _A smart young lady with a very promising future,_ she imagined it reading. _As long as she keeps it real and doesn't let her friends influence her too much. And what's up with the army jacket?_

"Would you like something to drink?"

Lindsay shook her head. "No, that's alright."

"Well, then please, have a seat." Mr. Rosso motioned to the couch, while he took a rocking chair adjacent to the coffee table. Lindsay sat down quietly, hands clasped together and resting on her legs. "So," he asked, "what brings you to casa de Rosso?"

Lindsay couldn't help snorting with laughter. The way he had asked that while rocking back and forth in his rocking chair came off as kind of creepy, even though she knew he hadn't meant it that way. This was definitely a weird situation. She barely ever came to Mr. Rosso for advice during the school year, and here she was in the middle of summer, hanging out at his house. But she needed advice. It had been almost a week since she came home, and her dad was still weirding her out. Upsetting her, to be honest. Like he barely noticed her around.

"How did you like the academic summit?"

Lindsay had been absently staring at her fingernails as she sat on the couch; she looked up at Mr. Rosso, who had asked her another question when she had ignored his first one. Lindsay was confused for a moment, until she remembered he wouldn't know what she had done. "Uh - I didn't go. Me and some friends followed the Grateful Dead around in a van while they were on tour."

Mr. Rosso stared blankly for a moment before raising an eyebrow.

"Really?"

Lindsay nodded sheepishly.

"Oh, man - it wasn't because of me, was it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Because I lent you that Grateful Dead album. You know, Lindsay, I wasn't trying to suggest you go see them instead of attending the summit, I just thought it might put you in a better frame of mind for-"

"I know, Mr. Rosso. Look, I don't want to be lectured or anything."

Her teacher held his hands up defensively, and Lindsay immediately felt bad for snapping at him. She supposed she had been under enough stress with her family situation. But she had come here to ask for advice, and it wouldn't help to cut him off or ignore what he had to say. She sighed. Maybe Mr. Rosso would just be disappointed in her, too. People had such high expectations of her – she was bound to let them down sometimes.

"By the way," said Mr. Rosso, "can I get that album back whenever you're done with it?"

"Oh, sure. It's in my room somewhere."

The two of them sat quietly for a moment. Lindsay noticed Mr. Rosso staring up at the Grateful Dead poster behind the couch above her head before he broke out into a smile. "Well," he said, "I guess if you're going to skip something important, you could do worse than a Grateful Dead concert tour."

The two of them laughed.

"So how was it?" he asked.

"Oh, it was amazing. I went with Kim Kelly and a couple other people – it wasn't like anything I've ever experienced before. Sometimes it sucked, like when it was pouring or once when people got kind of rowdy, but I'm totally glad I did it."

"I can imagine," said Mr. Rosso. "I knew they were touring, but I guess I'm a little old to be hitting the road in a van like you guys. I'm no teenager. You know, Lindsay, you really should have seen Woodstock. Man, when Hendrix came out on stage and started playing that guitar, I just remember-" Lindsay was actually interested in this story, but Mr. Rosso trailed off, his train of thought broken as he looked thoughtfully at her. "But that's not why you're here," he said. "And somehow I get the feeling you're here to talk about skipping the summit."

"Yeah. Sort of."

"Okay then. Spill your mind, Lindsay."

"Well, it's the way my dad reacted to it when I got back from the tour. Apparently both my parents knew I was skipping the summit and were waiting for me to get back. I was totally expecting a grounding or something even worse, but he's basically just letting me to do what I want. It's like he doesn't care. My mom hasn't said much, but she usually goes along with whatever he does, anyway."

Mr. Rosso smiled. "So you're freaked out by your dad going easy on you?"

"Exactly. I mean, it's not just that – the other day he said something about how he'd given up on me."

"Ouch."

Lindsay nodded. Mr. Rosso seemed to understand what she was saying, at least.

"I know you don't want to be lectured, but skipping out on something like that without telling them is kind of a big deal. I'm guessing they were pretty upset when they heard you weren't at the summit. For all they knew, you were dead in a ditch somewhere."

He was right, of course. She hadn't really planned things in advance much; as a matter of fact, she had only made the decision to go on the tour with Kim instead of the academic summit the day before she was set to leave. Somehow, the fact that the university would be calling them when she didn't show up hadn't occurred to her until halfway through the tour.

"So why _did_ you choose to go on the tour instead of the academic summit, Lindsay? I feel like you would have enjoyed the summit. Lots of cool people to talk to there, you know."

"Well, it's the Grateful Dead."

"Right," said Mr. Rosso. "Was that all? You just wanted to have fun?"

Lindsay thought about it. She _did_ want to have fun, and she didn't think there was anything wrong with that. What was the point of life if you didn't have fun? That was a major reason she had quit the Mathletes, after all – math could be fun, but there was a point where competitiveness and perfectionism turned it into work. Which was, in part, why she hadn't gone to the summit. "I'm just not sure if that whole academic competition thing is for me, you know? I'm not sure how much I have in common with those people."

"You can benefit from something like that without having to relate to everybody there, you know."

"I guess. But it's not just that, either – I mean, I really wanted to go on the tour with Kim. Not just because it would be fun, but because she doesn't get to go out and do stuff like that much, you know? If I was going to the academic summit, I'd just be going for myself, but I wanted to make Kim happy, too. I wanted her to have fun. My dad might be strict and all, but you should see _her_ family."

Mr. Rosso nodded, rocking in his chair and tapping a pencil thoughtfully against his chin. Where the pencil had come from, Lindsay had no idea. He reminded her of a hippie psychotherapist. Hopefully he wouldn't be asking her about Oedipal fantasies, or whatever the equivalent was for girls. "Did you talk to your parents beforehand about why you didn't want to go to the summit?" he asked.

Lindsay shook her head. "I did, but that doesn't work with them. Not with my dad, I mean. It's like he already has things decided for me. He thinks there's a certain way I have to live my life, and if I'm not doing that, I'm failing him. Stuff like that just isn't up for discussion."

Mr. Rosso nodded. "My dad was kind of like that."

"Really? So what did _you_ do?"

"Well," he said, coughing nervously, "I suppose I ignored him and became a high school guidance counselor."

Lindsay frowned. She was having a hard time figuring out how to apply that advice to her own situation.

"But I don't know your dad, Lindsay. He might not be as strict as mine was – the only way to find out is to talk to him. Communication is key. You should apologize for not communicating with them about where you were going, but you should also try to get him to see your side of things. You're growing up, and you need to live your own life. I personally think you would have enjoyed the academic summit, but if it's not your thing, well, that's your choice.

"From what you said, it sounds like he's overreacting to you doing your own thing – it wasn't right to lie to them about where you were going, but at the same time, you're not a delinquent. You have to let him know he doesn't need to worry about you. You work hard in school and you don't get yourself into trouble – except occasionally, when you're giving in to your friends too easily. But your father should count himself lucky, having a daughter like you."

"Aww, thanks, Mr. Rosso."

"Not a problem, Lindsay. Just calling it like I see it."

Lindsay wondered if she had really needed Mr. Rosso to tell her what to do. When she thought about it, she had already known why her father was acting the way he was acting. And she already knew she needed to talk to him; she had just been intimidated. She was so used to his usual heavy-handedness, this apathy and passive disappointment from him had caught her off guard. She needed somebody to reassure her that she wasn't totally in the wrong. Even if she had handled it badly, she still felt like going on that tour had been the right thing to do.

"Hey, Mr. Rosso-"

"Yes, Lindsay?"

Another question was balanced on the tip of her tongue. A question about how to handle things with someone who just couldn't move on, couldn't get over you, and what you did if you maybe had feelings for them but still didn't think it was a good idea to get back together with them. But she held her tongue at the last moment, thinking better of it. "Nothing," she said. "Forget about it. Thanks for listening."

"Any time, Lindsay."

She was glad she had paid Mr. Rosso a visit, but he was still her high school guidance counselor. Maybe he could help motivate her to talk to her dad, but asking him for romantic advice? That was just too much.

XX

"Can I help you?"

The three boys had been dawdling around the corner of A1 Sporting Goods, near the corner with the golf and tennis supplies, and they nearly lost their balance and crashed into the wall when Harold sneaked up behind them. Two of their faces went white as a sheet, but one of them – probably the ringleader – kept an innocent smile. It was no use, though. Even the ringleader was no good at hiding it. Guilty people always looked guilty, as far as Harold was concerned. _Especially_ when they were trying not to look guilty.

"No, sir," the ringleader said. "Just looking around."

"Well, make sure that's all you're doing. I've got my eye on you kids."

"Yes, sir."

The three boys scrambled out of the store almost as soon as Harold had gone back down the aisle. Definitely not the behavior of paying customers. He didn't even know why people tried to steal from his sporting goods store; it wasn't like they could sneak basketballs and catcher's mitts out under their shirts, and while tennis balls were a little more manageable, what was the point? Wasn't there something more expensive to steal? He'd never understand the psychology of teenagers.

Harold noticed one of the tennis rackets in the corner was partly unstrung. Maybe they had been messing around with it. He knew that was unlikely, as tennis rackets were pretty difficult to unstring like that – it was probably a manufacturer's error that his employees hadn't noticed when putting it out. Seeing as those teens had definitely been up to _something_, though, he decided that was exactly what had happened. He picked up the racket and took it back to the front counter so he could repair it later, still glowering as the kids lingered on his mind. Maybe they just did it for fun. If they realized how hard it was to build a shop like this up from nothing, to stay in business when the chain stores were creeping up behind you and breathing down your neck, maybe they wouldn't cause so much trouble. But even then he wasn't sure. Teenagers were teenagers, although they were definitely worse nowadays.

"Hello, Mr. Weir!"

Harold had returned behind the counter, his eyes lingering on the corner where the delinquents had been as he wondered if they had managed to get something without his noticing. He turned to see Millie coming through the door, grinning and waving at him. Now _there_ was one that wasn't like the others. Why couldn't more teenagers be like her? It was too bad his daughter didn't hang out with her anymore. At least not nearly as much as those other troublemakers. Harold frowned with displeasure, which confused Millie as she got to the counter – and no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than one of those troublemakers in question appeared at the counter right next to her. It was that Kim girl, if Harold was remembering right. He hadn't even noticed her coming into the store behind Millie.

"Hello, Kim."

"Hey, Mr. Weir. What are you up to?"

Harold stared blankly at her. "I'm running the store."

"Far out."

"I don't think it's 'far out', Kim. It's completely normal to run a small business."

Kim laughed. "Oh, no, that's just something they said a lot at the Grateful Dead shows. I guess I picked it up."

Now that Harold was reminded of it, Lindsay _had_ gone on that tour with Kim. He found himself sinking into a bad mood in the space of seconds. Those three teens had already irritated him by trying to steal his merchandise, and now Kim was here reminding him of his daughter's troublemaking. Troublemaking that _she_ had probably gotten his daughter into. And from the looks of it, the way Millie and Kim were standing together, the way they had come in at the same time, Kim was becoming a bad influence on _her_, too! It was just a shame.

"So what brings you two to my store?" he asked, getting impatient.

Millie cleared her throat officiously. "Well, Mr. Weir, we kind of wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About your daughter, Lindsay."

Harold looked at them, his interest piqued, along along with it came a pang of dread. Was there some other bad news now? Had she run off to join a motorcycle gang, or – he shuddered at the thought – join a touring band herself? Maybe that was far fetched, but Lindsay had been nothing but surprises lately. Fortunately, it didn't look like it was serious from the easygoing looks on both their faces, but it could still be important.

"Would you mind talking with us for a minute? Maybe in your office?"

"I'm a little busy, Millie," said Harold. "It isn't something you can tell me here?"

They shook their heads. Harold sighed and motioned for his newest assistant, whom he had been grooming to run the store from time to time as a floor manager when he wasn't around. Hopefully this meeting wouldn't take long, but he was still feeling antsy. "Kevin," he said, "can you keep an eye on things while I talk to these two young ladies here? Yell back at me if you see three punk teenagers come in."

"You mean _those_ punk teenagers?" asked Kevin, pointing to a group a few feet away. The teenagers in question looked up from perusing the shelves and glared at them.

"No, Kevin. It was another group of – oh, never mind. Just watch everybody. Come on, you two."

Harold led them into his office and closed the door. He motioned for them to take a chair, although there was only one available besides his own desk chair. Millie was closer, but she waved at Kim to insist she take the chair instead. Kim was happy to oblige, and plopped down with a contended sigh. "So, what is it?" he asked.

"Well, we heard you and Lindsay were having family problems."

"I'm not sure if that's any of your business, Kim."

Kim smirked for just a moment, but then, apparently realizing it wasn't a good way to get anywhere with him, froze her face into a more serious expression. "Well, I just didn't want you to blame her for the whole tour thing when it was really my fault more than it was her fault."

_Now_ she was talking. Harold wasn't surprised at this news. "Your fault, huh? What do you mean?"

"She was the one who mentioned the tour to me, but I encouraged her to go with me. And she probably wouldn't have gone if it wasn't for me. She ended up deciding to go because she wanted me to have fun and get out of this town for a while. Lindsay knows my parents kind of suck, especially compared to parents like you guys, so she thought it was better for both of us to have fun than for her to go to some summit alone while I got stuck in Chippewa."

"How do you know all this?" asked Harold. "Did she tell you?" His daughter certainly hadn't told _him_ any of this.

"Well, not exactly, but I picked it up from her. Just from things she said. Lindsay's a really good friend, Mr. Weir – she likes to make other people happy even when it's a pain in the butt for her. I mean, that's why she stuck around with Nick for as long as she did, believe me."

Kim made a face like Nick was some kind of raving lunatic, which Harold didn't quite appreciate. Out of the unsavory group Lindsay had been hanging around with lately, Nick seemed like he had the most promise, even if the boy needed to screw his head a little tighter on his shoulders.

"Kim's right," said Millie. "Lindsay told me she reason she ended up deciding to go on the tour was because she wanted Kim to come with her so they could have a good time. And she told me she didn't do any drugs while they were at any of the shows, or get into any orgies or anything."

Harold and Kim both looked at her in surprise.

"Well, that's what I'd be worried about if I had a daughter," said Millie, a little defensively.

"Don't worry, Mr. Weir," said Kim. "There weren't any orgies."

Harold was glad to hear that, although he had heard enough about drugs and orgies for one day. "So why are you two telling me this?" he asked. "You think Lindsay shouldn't be punished?"

"Well, I thought you _weren't_ punishing her, Mr. Weir."

Harold paused. That was true.

"So you think she should be punished? Wait, you're saying she wants to be punished?"

Their conversation was confusing him, and the two of them were just as confused from the looks of it. "No," said Kim, "it's just – well, I can tell Lindsay is upset about the way you've been acting like she's a lost cause or whatever. But you shouldn't worry about her, Mr. Weir. She's really smart. She'd probably blow all those people at that summit at the University of Michigan out of the water. And she loves you, too."

Of course, Harold knew that. He knew his daughter loved him – and he loved her, too. But he felt something catch in his throat as he heard Kim's words. The girl surprised him; she seemed like she was more perceptive than she looked. Maybe he had been judging a book by its cover.

"We just want you and Lindsay to get along," said Millie. "That's all."

Harold picked up a pencil and tapped it against his desk, feeling like his head was all swirled up. His mixed feelings were putting him off balance – he really didn't know what to do with Lindsay, after his punishments failed and she threw away such an amazing opportunity as the academic summit. And yet she had done it, at least in part, for a friend. And he knew he could trust Millie when she said Lindsay hadn't been getting too wild on tour. He needed some time to think things over.

"Thank you for listening to us," said Millie. "We'll let you get back to your store now."

"Yeah, thanks, Mr. Weir."

Harold nodded and stood up as the two of them left his office. He came out behind them, smiling faintly they gave him a last wave before leaving the store. Thoughts still in a whirl, he ended up behind the counter again as he mulled over what they had said. Whatever he ended up deciding about Lindsay, it was true that something had been broken between him and his daughter since she got back. They needed to talk things over.

Although he had Lindsay on his mind, Harold was still the owner and manager of A1 Sporting Goods. So when the three teenagers who had been causing trouble earlier came sneaking back in, they didn't get more than a few feet before he stormed out from behind the counter, picking up the tennis racket he had placed there earlier and gripping it menacingly in his hand. Apparently they _really_ wanted some of those tennis balls, if they had come back again. He had no intention of actually hitting them, but lunging at them was more than enough to send the teens scrambling out of the store in terror. "Sorry!" their ringleader yelled as the three of them pealed off down the street.

"Don't come back again, punks!" Harold yelled from the store's doorway.

He burst out laughing at the sight of their arms flopping as they ran away. If only he could work things out with his daughter that easily.


	5. Give It a Chance

**Give It a Chance**

XX

Sam shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun, trying to make out where the rocket was going to parachute down. It was always better if they could catch it before it hit the ground; sometimes the parachute didn't work that well, although being in a grassy empty lot was helpful. The sun was too bright, but somehow Bill managed to catch it on its way down through sheer luck.

"Nice one, Bill."

Sam, Bill, and Neal stood looking at each other for a moment before deciding through unspoken agreement that it was time for lunch. They'd been playing around for about an hour now, and they were getting hungry. Along with the toy rocket, they had brought packed lunches for a picnic out to the abandoned lot on the edge of the Sam's neighborhood. The three of them sat down and began to take their foods out of their paper bags.

"What'd you guys bring?" asked Sam.

Neal unwrapped a block of aluminum foil, revealing a sandwich. "Cold turkey on rye," he said, taking a bite and washing it down with a sip from a juice box. "You?"

"Peanut butter and jelly."

"Keep that away from me," said Bill.

"Don't worry. What about you, what do you have?"

Bill had a Tupperware container filled with something red and noodly. "Leftover spaghetti," he explained.

"Isn't that cold?"

"Yeah, so? Cold spaghetti is good."

Sam and Neal wrinkled their noses at each other. "Eww!"

The three of them ate quietly for a while, enjoying the nice weather and the scenery. Summer was still in its early stages, so none of them had to think about school; Sam always hated when you tried to enjoy the end of summer, but the thought of returning to classes and homework still ended up dampening your fun. Good days were still ahead, though. All they had coming up in the near future were long, empty days which they could fill with whatever they wanted: wandering around the neighborhood, watching lots of TV, and playing Dungeons & Dragons, of course. Sometimes his dad would complain about him wasting time, but that was okay.

Although now that he thought about his dad, Sam grew annoyed at the way he had dismissed the comic book convention so easily. There was one thing they wouldn't be doing this summer. Thinking of his dad made Sam think of his sister, too. He felt sorry for her. The Grateful Dead tour must have been fun for her, but ever since she got back, she and their dad hadn't been getting along at all. Sam knew he'd feel weird if he did something wrong and didn't get punished for it. Although, to be fair, he never really did anything wrong.

But maybe he'd change in the future. Just like Lindsay had been changing. Maybe he'd start hanging out with the cool kids when he got older, and his interests would start changing. Maybe he'd ditch Bill and Neal – no, that was stupid. Even thinking it made Sam feel guilty. There was no way he could do that. So he _had_ dated Cindy Sanders, and maybe he had gotten to know a couple popular kids just a little bit – even Todd seemed like an okay guy – but his friends were his friends. That was just all there was to it.

"So how's the whole gym coach dating your mom situation, Bill?" asked Neal. "If you don't mind me asking."

Bill took a thoughtful bite of his leftover spaghetti, which made Sam and Neal turn away in disgust again. "Uh, no, that's alright," he said. "He's not so bad, I guess. We've been watching some Dallas reruns."

"Really? He's into that?"

"Yeah. It's not sports or anything, but he's okay with it. I have to explain what's going on with every episode, though, because we missed the first two episodes when they started doing repeats."

Sam traded a surprised look with Neal. He hadn't expected Bill to forgive Coach Fredericks for going out with his mom so easily, but it sounded like miracles _did_ happen sometimes. "Man," said Bill, "I can't wait until they start the new season."

"I bet somebody'll shoot JR again," said Sam, making his friends laugh.

"Yeah, and it'll just turn out to be a dream or something. That whole season."

"No way," said Neal. "That would be the stupidest idea ever."

The three of them grew quiet again as they finished their food. Neal propped himself up on his elbow and looked at his two friends as he ate his cold turkey sandwich, furrowing his brow as he pondered something deeply. "You know what?"

Sam crumpled up his trash and put it in the paper bag. "What?"

"We should totally invite Maureen and Vicki to do this next time."

"What, shoot rockets?"

"Yeah. Why not? Maureen had fun with us last time we did it."

"I dunno," said Bill. "She seems like she's one of the popular girls now."

"So what? They don't own her, do they? And now that Daniel's playing D&D with us, we're starting to turn popular too, aren't we? Well, I mean, maybe not popular, but cool. And that's like the first step to popular."

Sam could see Neal's point; but then again, he didn't know if Daniel would be playing Dungeons & Dragons with them anymore. Not after the way he had acted at the basketball court. Still, he didn't know why Maureen would turn them down; she was still friendly with them, and before school had ended for summer break, she would always say hello in the hallway as she passed them by, even if they hadn't been hanging out much. "We _could_ try asking Maureen," he said, "but I don't know about Vicki. Why would she come?"

"She's connected to Maureen," said Neal. "They're friends now. Maureen can put in a good word for us."

"You just want Vicki to come because you have the hots for her."

Neal nodded. "Well, yeah. Exactly."

Bill shook his head. "We can't invite Vicki. That would be awkward. I made out with her in the closet once."

"Oh, give it a rest!" Neal threw his wrapped up ball of foil at Bill, who blocked it with his arm and shot his friend an indignant glare. "Don't bring up that stupid story again. We both know you made up-"

"Hey, guys."

The three of them looked up to see Daniel standing over them. They had been so busy talking about inviting girls to their rocket launch that they hadn't even heard him coming. Not only that, but Nick was standing beside him. Sam was surprised to see the two of them. "Hey," he said. "We were just eating lunch."

"That's cool. Man, I had to look around a while to find you guys. I asked your mom where you were and she just said you were hangin' around the neighborhood."

"We were firing some rockets," said Sam, pointing to the rocket they had lying on the ground beside them. "So what's up, Daniel?"

Daniel shifted on his feet, looking around as if trying to avoid Sam's eyes. He definitely wanted to say something, but he was having trouble getting out it. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I'm sorry about saying I didn't wanna go to your convention the other day."

"That's okay," Sam said. "I mean, if you don't want-"

"Well, the thing is, I _do_ wanna go. I guess I was just kinda nervous about being too nerdy or somethin'. But hey, what's wrong with being a nerd, right? Like I care what anybody thinks."

"I totally told him that, too," said Nick. "Like, I always thought Dungeons & Dragons was totally nerdy, but I was just listening to some Zeppelin lyrics the other day and there was some pretty cool fantasy stuff in there. Like that guy Tolkein, you know? Which is pretty much the same thing."

Sam traded grins with Bill and Neal. Maybe they _were_ starting to become cool. His smile turned to a frown, however, when he remembered the one small problem obstructing Daniel's change of heart. "That's awesome," he said, "but we were kind of counting on my dad to take us there, and he doesn't even want us to go. I don't know how we're going to get there now."

"I could drive you guys, no problem."

"I don't think my dad would like that."

"You always do what your dad tells you to do?"

Sam hesitated. Usually, he did. The way Daniel had asked him that in such a challenging way made him sympathize with his sister; if her friends were pushy like this, Sam could understand why Lindsay had been getting in so much trouble over the last year or so. Daniel, however, seemed to realize he was being pushy. "Sorry," he said. "I guess Lindsay would get pretty angry if she knew I was getting you to ignore your dad after she already did that."

Nick laughed. "Man, she would _so_ beat you up."

Daniel ignored his friend. "Well, this sucks. So no convention?"

"Not unless my dad changes his mind."

"Hmm."

Daniel kept standing, but Nick sat down with the three of them, helping himself to half of a cookie which Neal had divided up to save for later while he was eating lunch. Neal's lower lip pursed in irritation, but he didn't say anything. Nick licked crumbs off his fingers and then picked up the rocket, turning it over in his hands. "What's up with this?" he spoke, a crumb flying from his mouth.

"It's the rocket we were firing."

"Sweet. You guys going to fire it again?"

"Sure."

"Awesome! Let's do it!"

"I thought you said you had to go home this afternoon," said Daniel.

"Well, yeah, but not right now or anything. Besides, it's a rocket. Maybe it'll blow up or something!"

"It's not filled with explosives," said Neal. Sam suppressed a laugh.

"Oh, well, that's cool."

Nick's excitement was toned down a little, but he still wanted to see how it was done. Sam took the rocket from him and got up with his friends, brushing some grass off his butt and motioning for Nick and Daniel to join them as they went back into the middle of the lot to begin setting up. This was shaping up to be a weird summer. Daniel was actually turning into their friend, at least kind of. If they wanted to go to that convention, Sam knew he'd have to convince his dad it would be fun – and harmless. And something in the back of his mind told him that the relationship between his dad and his sister would have to mend before that could happen.

XX

"Hey, dad?"

Harold looked up from his newspaper. His daughter stood at the entrance to the living room, obviously getting ready to go somewhere.

"Yes, Lindsay?"

"I'm gonna go out for a while, okay?"

"Go ahead," he told her. "Be back for dinner."

His daughter went bounding out the door. Harold sighed and sat in his easy chair as he thought about Lindsay. Things had been awkward between them, but he didn't know what to do about it. She had asked her parents if it was okay the last several times she had gone out, but he couldn't shake the feeling it was an act – she just didn't want to get in trouble, but she didn't genuinely care what they thought. Hadn't she proved that already?

And yet Millie and Kim's visit to the A1 Sporting Goods Store yesterday had lingered in the back of his mind ever since then. It was like there were two different outlooks fighting each other in his head, jockeying for position. To Harold, tough love was the way to point his daughter in the right direction – if she disobeyed him, if she lied about something major like the academic summit, she needed discipline. His father had done that to him, although he was nowhere near as severe as his father.

But the discipline didn't work. His daughter just did what she wanted. And yet from what her friends had said, she had some altruistic reasons for doing it, at least in part. They had also pointed out that Lindsay was smart enough to get by no matter what she chose to do in life, but Harold wasn't so sure about that. Not that she _wasn't_ smart. His daughter was a genius, as far as he was concerned – it was just that being smart didn't lead to success in life. Not by itself, it didn't. Hard work was the only thing that led to success, and even that wasn't a guarantee. To Harold, the academic summit represented that. Playing by the rules, going to a good college, choosing a productive major that led to solid career opportunities. He didn't want Lindsay going through the same struggles that he did, forced to crawl up the same narrow ladder. Why couldn't she see that?

Harold picked up the newspaper again and tried to read, but now that his daughter was on his mind, he couldn't focus. After a moment, he gave up with a sigh and got out of his easy chair, leaving the living room. He didn't quite know where he was going; he found himself standing at the door to his daughter's bedroom. He leaned against the door frame and looked into the room, thinking about the day it would be empty. The day his daughter would be off to college, making her way in the world.

Assuming she went to college, Harold reminded himself. But he didn't want to think about that possibility. He remembered childhood friends that hadn't gone to college. And where had they ended up? Dead, that's where. The thought brought a smile to his face; not a morbid smile, but out of amusement at himself. He could imagine his daughter's reaction, clear as day. _Dad, I'm pretty sure getting a job out of high school isn't literally going to kill me. _ So maybe he was exaggerating just a bit.

As he looked idly around Lindsay's room, he noticed something propped up by the side of her bed; the cover sleeve of an album. It was sitting by itself, as if Lindsay had been listening to it recently, but Harold couldn't make out the name on the cover; it was written using some kind of New Agey hippie lettering. His interest piqued, Harold took a step inside the room and picked it up, looking at the back. He realized it was a Grateful Dead album cover. Where had Lindsay gotten this from, anyway?

He noticed the album itself was already loaded onto his daughter's record player. Since Lindsay was out for the afternoon, Harold was sure his daughter wouldn't mind if he listened to it just for a minute. Maybe it would be a good idea, anyway. If this album had motivated Lindsay skipping the academic summit, it couldn't hurt to find out why. If he heard anything in the lyrics about going on tours and engaging in drug-fueled orgies, though, Lindsay was in _big_ trouble.

XX

Harold hated to admit it, but he liked the Grateful Dead.

The album had only gone through four or five songs, but there was no getting around it; this was pretty good music. It wasn't loud and abrasive like some of that punk rock he had heard about, or bizarre, drugged out space music like Pink Floyd. It was sensible – that was a good way to put it, Harold thought. Catchy, too. Although he wasn't too sure about the lyrics. That one song about being friends with the devil didn't strike him as very wholesome.

Still, he couldn't help tapping his feet to the beat. He felt his head swaying back and forth as the mood of the next song took over him. Harold didn't like to get carried way about things, but just for a moment, he felt a strange urge. An urge to dance. His legs twitched, like they were thinking about sending him up on his feet. In another moment, if he wasn't careful enough, he might give in. And just as he was about to stand up-

"Harold, what are you doing?"

He jumped up from the bed like he had been caught stealing something. "Oh, Jean!" he said. "Nothing. Just listening to this Grateful Dead band that lured Lindsay out to that tour."

"I don't think the band personally lured her out to the tour, honey," said his wife.

"You know what I mean."

Jean came in to their daughter's room with an amused smirk, sitting beside her husband. The two of them listened to the music for a moment. "What do you think about it?" Harold asked her.

"It's nice. Catchy."

"I suppose so," he admitted grudgingly.

"Did Lindsay go out?"

Harold nodded. "What about Sam? Is he still out with his friends?"

Jean nodded. After a moment of silence, Harold raised an eyebrow suggestively. Maybe it was the fact that the two of them were alone, or maybe it was something in the music – and if that was the case, he might have to start worrying about his daughter even more – but he felt a certain romantic mood coming over him. But before he could suggest anything more, Jean shook her head. "I have to do some laundry," she explained.

Harold frowned. That was a fast rejection.

"You know, honey, I wanted to talk to you about Sam and the convention."

"What about it?" asked Harold reluctantly.

"Don't you think Sam and his friends would have a lot of fun there?"

"A lot of fun getting mugged in some alley."

"Oh, come on, Harold. You're overreacting. I realize you're upset with Lindsay, but you don't have to take it out on Sam and his friends."

"Aren't _you_ upset with Lindsay?"

Harold had noticed that his wife hadn't been treating the whole situation as seriously as he had. He had chalked it up to Jean letting him take care of the situation, but the more he thought about it, the more he suspected his wife didn't agree with him. "Sure, I'm upset with her," she said. "But I don't know if it's the end of the world."

Harold grumbled something unintelligible. Maybe it wasn't. "I'd have to take a day or two off work if I was taking Sam and his friends anywhere," he said half-heartedly.

"You're overdue for a vacation anyway, Harold. It's a bonding experience. And besides, you could bring them along to see a few sights after the convention – I'm sure that's a small price for Sam to pay if he wants you to take him somewhere."

Harold hadn't thought of that. He _had_ hired that new floor manager at the store; maybe it would be a good opportunity to give him some experience. Sometimes he did feel like running the store on his own was an overwhelming task, although usually he didn't mind being solely in charge when it meant he knew what was going on and could prevent any mistakes from happening. And he had to admit that he had been blunt with Sam over dinner the other day. He had no interest in the convention himself, but it wasn't like a comic book convention scared him as much as the thought of his teenage daughter loafing around the country in a van like some hobo and going to hippie shows with complete strangers.

"I'll think about it," he said.

"Thank you, Harold."

His wife kissed him on the cheek and got up, leaving him to listen to the rest of the album alone. He supposed he needed to have a talk with both his kids when they got home.

XX

This was the second time in the last week that Lindsay had been invited to Nick's house expecting to hang out with the whole gang, and instead found herself alone with her ex-boyfriend and blanketed in an atmosphere of awkward intensity as Nick struggled not to say anything embarrassing. Of course, last time she had honestly expected everyone to be there – this time, even though Nick had said Daniel and the others might come over, his lie had been pretty transparent. She had expected him to be here alone when she arrived, and she knew why he wanted to see her. Nick was not very good at hiding his feelings.

Nick said something, but it was drowned out by the roll he was doing on his drum kit at the same time. The two of them were in the garage, where he had been showing her some new stick tricks he had learned. "What was that?" she yelled over the noise.

"I said, having a small drum kit isn't as bad as I thought."

Nick executed another roll, cutting Lindsay off just as she was about to say something. She flinched at the sharp staccato of the snare drum. "It's cool your dad is letting you build it again," she said after the crash cymbal Nick had used to punctuate the end of his roll stopped reverberating.

"Yeah, he even bought me a piece."

"Really? Which one?"

"This one here," said Nick, pointing a tiny cymbal attached to an extension arm jutting off from the crash cymbal's stand. Lindsay had learned the names of some of the drums and cymbals from listening to Nick go on about it, but she didn't know that one. "It's a splash cymbal," he explained. "I never really paid much attention to them when I had my big kit – I mean it looks like a cymbal for midgets, right?"

Lindsay smiled at Nick's goofy laughter.

"But now that I've got a smaller kit I gotta use everything, you know? And it's kind of cool."

Nick did another blaring roll on his snare drum. Lindsay couldn't help wondering if his father had been assuming that a small kit would mean less noise, but from the looks of it, that just meant Nick hit the snare drum and kicked the bass more often, which were the loudest drums. Lindsay had been able to hear the bass drum out on the street, before she even got to his house. _The neighbors must love him_, she thought.

"Well, I guess nobody else is coming," said Nick, trying to act casual. "Hey, you wanna go to the basement?"

"Um, sure."

Nick stood up abruptly, dropping his sticks onto the snare drum with a clatter and leading Lindsay into the house and downstairs. His dad wasn't home, but she supposed he liked the feeling of privacy that he got from the basement. She could feel her body tense up, knowing what was coming. There was no way she had been imagining the vibes coming from Nick since she got back, and she was dreading the answer she would have to give him.

"Want a drink?" he asked as they plopped down on the couch in the basement.

"No thanks."

"Okay. So, look – I wanted to talk to you about something, Lindsay."

Lindsay tried her best to smile.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"Well, I've been thinking about some stuff ever since you got back from that trip. Remember when you stopped by that one time before the dance tournament and said hi and everything?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"See, I feel like I got a vibe from you then – like maybe you felt something for me, more than just being friends. And I'm pretty sure I've been feeling the same thing since you got back. I think it's really important to be honest about things. You know, like how they say communication is what's most important in a relationship."

Lindsay decided not to point out that they _weren't_ in a relationship. Nick sat still for a moment, his mouth opening and closing just a little bit as it he was getting ready to stammer something out. Finally, he spoke:

"I was just wondering if you wanted to be more than friends with me."

The question pressed down on Lindsay, pushing her back into the couch like a dead weight. She sat silently, trying to think of an answer. There were a lot of answers, to be honest. She could pretend like she really _did_ like him, but tell him she couldn't go out with him because he was in a relationship with Sara and that would be wrong. But of course that one would backfire, as he'd just break up with Sara and it would be all Lindsay's fault. She could tell him, flat out, that she wasn't interested in him that way. But she had already rejected him before. And now here he was, making her do it again. This sucked.

She could also say yes. She could give him another chance; he _had_ been changing some things around in his life She couldn't deny there were some lingering feelings there, too, although she didn't think it was anything like love, and it wasn't enough to make her want to jump back into dating him again. And saying yes could be worse than anything else. She'd be leading him on again, letting him get his hopes up when she was ambivalent about the whole thing. And if he had gone crazy the _first_ time they broke up? She cringed at the thought of how he might act after another breakup.

Nick had gotten up without her even noticing. He was pacing around, which made Lindsay even more nervous; was he going to freak out if she said anything negative to him? It wasn't that she thought Nick was violent or anything, but he had gotten emotional enough last time that she worried about him breaking down in front of her. That would be awkward to have to sit through. "Nick," she said, "why don't you sit down on the couch?"

"Oh, no," he said, "I know what that means. You can't break up with me, Lindsay. We're not even going out!"

"Um, that's true. I just wanted to talk."

Nick had been working himself up, but he took a breath and thought better of it. Apparently Lindsay's lack of an answer had already been an answer in itself. He sat down with a defeated look on his face, awaiting the inevitable. Lindsay felt horrible. She remembered back to the day she had first kissed Nick, in an attempt to cheer him up. She hated seeing people unhappy, especially people she cared about - and she _did_ care about Nick, even if she wasn't very enthusiastic about doing the dating thing again.

"I really like you, Nick – you know that. I just don't like you that way."

She heard a breath of air escape from Nick's lungs. He looked like he had just deflated, but strangely, it wasn't a bad kind of deflation. Not like she had punctured him. She had been wincing in anticipation of his reaction, but it was almost like he had let out all the pressure he was holding in. Maybe that was all he needed, really. Just an answer. "That's good," he said. "I was worried maybe you did, and that would have been kind of awkward since I'm in a relationship with Sara and all. I didn't want to have to turn you down, you know?"

Same strategy as last time. Pretending it was his decision to make things less painful for himself. But Lindsay didn't mind that; if it worked for Nick, she was happy to play along, and he already seemed like he was doing better than last time. "You're right," she said. "And you know, Sara is a nice girl. I mean, she's kind of intense sometimes, but still a nice girl, and she's liked you a long time. I think it's good that you're giving her a chance."

Nick nodded in agreement. The two of them settled down, glad to get that conversation out of the way.

Lindsay didn't know what the future held for them; there was no denying she liked Nick, and in their brief relationship there had been moments where she cared about him as more than a friend, even if she had felt like a deer caught in headlights the rest of the time. But even ignoring the baggage that came with Nick, she wasn't interested in being in a relationship right now. She needed time to think about herself. If the two of them were meant to be, then it would happen someday. No use worrying about it. Right now, she was happy to find a friend in Nick.

"You know, I'm kind of hungry," she said. "You want to go out and get something to eat?"

"Like as friends?"

Lindsay smiled. "Yeah. As friends."

"Sure. That sounds cool."

The two of them got up from the couch and headed upstairs. It was amazing how quickly the tension between them had eased up. Nick must have been more guarded than he was last time, more ready for a rejection. And there was no mouthing the words to rock ballads or playing her a song on his acoustic guitar, which was a relief. Although she reminded herself that his acoustic guitar was in a trash can somewhere, thanks to Ken.

"I'm not in a hurry to get home, anyway," she said as they headed out the door.

"Why's that?"

"I need to talk to my dad about some stuff."

"Oh, cool. Yeah, I know how it is with dads."

"Hey, at least yours bought you a splash cymbal." They both laughed. "How'd you make up with him after he sold the drums and you left home, anyway?"

"Oh, I didn't do much. I guess he pretty much just took me back and acted like it was all in the past. He didn't say sorry or anything, but he's not the kind of guy to say sorry, you know? You can tell if he's sorry, anyway."

"Right."

As they walked down the street, Lindsay wondered what she would say to her dad. He was stubborn, and she didn't think she could count on him just forgetting about everything like Nick's dad. Although maybe she wasn't giving him enough credit. He had told her that one time that Nick's dad was a lot more stern than he was, after all. And he hadn't kicked her out of the house or anything.

Not only that, but she had to admit she _did_ have some blame in the whole situation. She didn't regret going on the trip with Kim, and she'd do it again, too, but she regretted other things. Lying to them had been wrong, after all. The only question was if she could make things right.

XX

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_**Notes**: One chapter to go. Let me know what you guys thought, and thanks to everybody who's been reviewing so far! :)_


	6. Truckin'

**Truckin'**

XX

Daniel couldn't deny he still had doubts about the whole thing. He had no idea what there was to do at the convention, for one thing. For all he knew, he'd be bored out of his mind. And it wasn't like he was knew Sam and his friends that well. They were different ages, belonged to different social circles, and Sam being Lindsay's little brother made things even weirder. But he also couldn't deny that Dungeons & Dragons was a lot of fun. Not just a lot of fun, but something he had never imagined he'd enjoy. So here he was at ten in the morning, sitting in the Weir family's kitchen with Sam, Neal, and Bill.

It didn't hurt that coming over to Lindsay's place meant eating a good breakfast for once. Lindsay's mom had been feeding them all morning like she was fattening them up to be sent off to a slaughter. It was a different experience than it was at Daniel's house, that was for sure. Mrs. Weir wasn't much like his mom. He sat wolfing down a plate of eggs, sausage, hash browns, and bacon as he listened to Bill finishing up a story he'd been telling:

"And that's when I knew peanuts would kill me."

Daniel yawned widely as he nodded. He wasn't trying to be rude; it was just that this was earlier in the morning than he was used to getting up. Especially in the summer. Sam had called him and gotten his parents on the phone earlier, who had shaken him awake to answer it. Apparently Mr. Weir had had a change of heart, and now the trip to the convention was back on at the last minute.

"Fascinating story, Bill," said Neal. "So, where's your Carlos the dwarf costume, Daniel?"

"Yeah, right," he laughed through a forkful of hash browns. "No way I'm dressing up like anything."

"Most people don't," said Sam. "It's just something you can do for fun if you want to."

Daniel eyed him skeptically. "Maybe we'll leave that for some other convention, if I like this one."

Daniel had no intention of ever dressing up like some comic book character, but he was humoring them. A Carlos the dwarf costume would be funny, actually, but of course he was too tall to pull that off. Maybe it could be like a joke, like he was saying that Carlos wasn't much of a dwarf at all. He was thinking about the implications of a Carlos costume when Lindsay stumbled into the kitchen, yawning and stretching her arms. She did a double take when she saw him at the table.

"Daniel? What are you doing here?"

"Uh, nothing. Just hanging out."

"We're all going to the comic book convention," said Sam. "It's today."

"Oh. I had no idea. You're going too, Daniel?"

He nodded. Lindsay looked at him strangely for a moment – as far as Daniel could tell, it was like she was half pleased and half amused. Then she looked around the table at her brother and his friends as they finished their breakfasts. "Man," she said, "this is just weird."

"Can't I talk to your friends?" asked Sam.

"Of course. I was just meant it was a weird image, all you guys sitting around the table, that's all. I'm sure the convention will be fun."

"Hey," said Daniel, "I heard you hung out with Nick yesterday."

Lindsay nodded hesitantly.

"How's he doing?"

"He's cool – we're cool."

Daniel was relieved to hear it. He was pretty sure Nick was imagining things when he thought Lindsay was giving signals, but he definitely didn't want things to go weird like they did the first time those two got together and broke up. Nick had picked up Sara last time as a rebound, so if things went bad again, there was no telling what he'd do. Maybe date that chick they had in their biology class last year with the hairy upper lip or something. Or like an ax murderer. He had to admit Sara wasn't that bad, though. She had started picking up on how nobody else in the group liked disco except Nick – who Daniel still thought was just faking his interest – so she toned it down around then. When she talked about other things instead, she was okay.

"Where's dad?" asked Lindsay.

"He's out in the garage," said her mother. "He's going to drop by the store to open it up to let his new manager run it for an afternoon as an experiment while we're gone. But he's keeping it closed after today."

"While _we're_ gone?" asked Lindsay, sounding confused.

"Oh, didn't the boys tell you? I'm going too!"

"That's cool. I think I'll go keep dad company when he stops by the store."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Just in case he needs any help getting things ready."

Her mother smiled. "That sounds like a good idea, honey."

"Bye, mom."

Lindsay kissed her mother on the cheek and gave her brother a playful slap on the back of the head before heading out of the kitchen. Before she left, however, she turned back to Daniel. "Have fun," she said with a grin. "You gotta tell us all about it when you get back, Carlos."

Daniel froze. How had she heard about his D&D name? He felt violated, somehow – but the feeling soon passed. He knew she was giving him a hard time. He was also glad to see that she was being friendly with him again. The other day Lindsay had been giving him the cold shoulder since he had been kind of rude to her little brother about not going to the convention when he had told Sam he would earlier. Now that he _was_ going, she seemed to be happy with him again. Sometimes he felt like he'd never understand women.

"Do you want some more sausages, Daniel?"

"Yeah, sure, Mrs. Weir. Thanks!"

Mrs. Weir threw a few more sausages in the pan for everyone at the table. She had insisted on cooking everyone a big breakfast, because apparently it was important to have a good meal before you went on a trip. She also seemed to think it was really cute that Daniel was hanging out with Sam and his friends. This was definitely a weird image, as Lindsay had said. But when it came with sausage and hash browns, Daniel could get used to a little weirdness.

XX

All of a sudden the convention was a family outing. Lindsay wondered if Sam had been anticipating that when he asked his dad permission to go. Sometimes you had to compromise to get what you wanted; she supposed her brother would have to deal with their parents hanging around while he tried to have fun with his friends. She couldn't help grinning at the thought. Maybe it would build his character. In the meantime, though, she needed to spend some quality time of her own with her father before he left, which was why she was riding in the car with him.

The drive over to A1 Sporting Goods had been unusually quiet – or maybe it wasn't that unusual, considering the way things had been between Lindsay and her father. Still, he didn't seem angry with her, or even disappointed, the way he had been before. It was more that he wanted to say something, but couldn't. She could relate to that. "So you decided on taking Sam and his friends to the convention after all?" she asked, hoping to break the silence.

"Yep. Sam and Jean both talked me into it."

"Well, I'm sure that'll be fun," said Lindsay with a wry smile. She caught her dad flashing a quick smile in return, but the conversation trailed off as they arrived at the store, pulling into the parking lot as someone leaning against another parked car waved at them. Probably the floor manager her father had hired. "Hey," the man said laconically.

"Hello, Kevin."

Her father looked annoyed that Kevin had just said 'hey' without even a 'sir' to add to it.

"Ready to run the store alone for a day?"

Kevin nodded indifferently. Lindsay was already getting the feeling her father would end up complaining about this guy down the line, but then, knowing her father, he's probably complain about anyone's job performance. Still, her dad seemed to want to give someone else some ability to run the store from time to time. He hadn't done it before – she had always gotten the impression she liked things done his way when it came to running a store.

Lindsay waited while her father unlocked the front doors, and then the three of them went inside as they began to set things up for the day. Her father asked Kevin to open up the registers and put in the starting cash before heading back to his office. Lindsay followed him. "I never would have thought you'd actually hire somebody else to run the store while you're gone," she said. "Remember how much you complained that one time you hired that kid for a week?"

"That kid was a punk," said her father. "I guess I'd just like to cut down my hours a little bit. It's been tough lately. I'm not getting any younger," he admitted with a frown. "And if I hire someone to help me out, I could keep the store open seven days a week. It's an experiment, but if it brings in any more money, it'll help."

"Well, you know, if you need someone to help out sometimes, I'd be happy to put in a few hours."

"Really?"

Her dad looked surprised at her offer. Lindsay was kind of surprised that she had made it herself, but she was trying to be conciliatory - and really, it wasn't such a bad idea. She could use some spending money. She had been around the store – and heard her father talking about it – long enough to know some sporting goods basics, too. "Just keep in mind I'm not working for free," she said. "even if I _am_ your daughter."

Her father laughed. "Fair enough."

"And it doesn't mean I want to do it all my life or anything. I just wouldn't mind helping out sometimes."

Even before she finished speaking, Lindsay wondered if she had said the wrong thing. Would her dad take offense? He had worked hard on starting the store and making it successful; maybe he had expected one of his children to follow in his footsteps, even if he hadn't really mentioned it before. He gave her a strained look, which Lindsay thought was anger at first, but realized it was something else.

"Lindsay," her father said, "I don't want you to follow in my footsteps."

Lindsay was confused.

"Uh – really?"

Her father motioned for her to sit down, and the two of them faced each other on opposite sides of the desk in his little back office. He looked around, quietly taking in the room. She wondered how much time he had spent in here – how much time he had spent behind those cash registers where Kevin was standing now. "I like this job, Lindsay," he said. "I know how to sell sporting goods. I can call my own shots, and I've gotten used to the routine. But it's been a hard road. And I was damn lucky to get here in the first place. When I think about how many problems I had to overcome, how many times I felt like there wasn't any way to-"

Her father trailed off. Lindsay understood what he meant, and she finally knew what to say. She remembered saying it before when she first got back from her trip, but her father hadn't bought it at the time. And he had been right – she hadn't really meant it. She was just trying to get out of trouble. But that wasn't the case this time.

"I'm sorry, dad."

He had been lost in thought, staring down at his desk. He looked up.

"Sorry about what?"

"I'm sorry about lying to you and mom about the academic summit."

"Oh. Well, that's good. I'm glad you see it was wrong."

Lindsay nodded. "It _was_ wrong. But, the thing is – I don't regret going on that tour. And I don't regret skipping the academic summit, even if I should have talked things out with you and mom first. It's just – I just knew it would be the same kind of thing as the Mathletes, the same over-the-top competitiveness and posturing. I've seen all that before, you know? I don't know what I want to do with myself, but I want to see what the world has to offer. That doesn't mean I won't work hard, but I want to have fun, too. You might worry about me, and maybe I let Kim and Daniel and all of them pressure me sometimes before, but I'm more comfortable with myself now. It's hard to explain – I just know I'll be okay."

Even if it was true, Lindsay knew a pitch like that was a gamble with her dad. He just wasn't the kind of guy who went in for the whole 'finding yourself' kind of thing. She could picture her dad wagging his finger, telling her that 'finding yourself' was a good way to find yourself starving in a trash heap. She didn't blame him; maybe she didn't know all the details of his life, but she knew things had been harder for him than they had been for her. He had struggled to make life easier for her and Sam. But she hoped part of why he had done that was to let them have more freedom to do what _they_ wanted, and to find their own path in life.

"I know you'll be okay, too," her father told her.

Lindsay smiled. So maybe he _did_ understand. She suddenly felt sad about her family heading off to some convention for a few days; just when she was patching things up with her father, she'd be left alone in the house. Of course, that wasn't the end of the world. After narrowly avoiding a family disaster after her trip with Kim, she didn't really feel like hosting any big parties again in her parent's absence, but having the house to herself could still be relaxing. Maybe she'd even borrow a few more albums from Mr. Rosso. Although he probably wanted _American Beauty_ back sooner or later.

Harold tapped a finger hard on his desk. "You still need some kind of punishment, though. Lying to us was a pretty big deal."

"I guess that's fair," said Lindsay. Her father's words put her on edge again, although she knew he was right. She braced herself for whatever was coming. "What do you have in mind?"

A smile crossed her father's face. It wasn't often that she saw her dad smile, and this one looked particularly strange - like he knew something she didn't. Or like he was about to play a prank on her.

"What are you up to the next few days?"

XX

The road ahead stretched onwards, leaving Michigan and heading east. Lindsay idly watched the double yellow lines zipping by, wondering how her dad had managed to throw her such a curve ball. She was getting a ride for the second time that day - but instead of her parent's car, she was in the passenger seat of Daniel's car. Daniel was driving, and in the back sat her mother and Neal Schweiber.

Her parent's car was ahead of them, being driven by her father, who was also taking Sam, Bill, and Gordon with him. Her father had given Daniel strict instructions to follow behind his car the entire way from Chippewa to New Jersey, and Lindsay got the feeling that she and her mother were there to keep an eye on him while he drove. Lindsay thought her dad was being a little paranoid - although with Daniel, maybe that wasn't entirely unreasonable.

"Oh, this is going to be so fun!" said her mother. "We haven't had a family outing in a long time. And I'm looking forward to getting to know you better, Daniel."

"Sure thing, Mrs. Weir," said Daniel. "That'll be cool."

Lindsay and Daniel exchanged looks. Being volunteered for this trip had not been the kind of punishment Lindsay was expecting, but it was definitely going to be uncomfortable. She had no interest in a convention - but a family outing with Daniel coming along? That meant guaranteed weeks of embarrassment when he got back and told all her friends about it. Although it could be equally embarrassing for Daniel, so maybe that would keep him quiet. At least Daniel had actually _wanted_ to come along.

Neal spoke up in the back seat. "What about me, Mrs. Weir?"

"What about you, Neal?"

"Aren't you looking forward to getting to know _me_ better?"

Lindsay rolled her eyes. Neal was usually sweet, but sometimes he had a way of saying things in a totally creepy way, even if he didn't mean them like that. Her mother either didn't notice or didn't mind, and laughed at the comment. "I already know you just fine, Neal. You hang out with Sam all the time!"

"Oh, fine. By the way, it's a pleasant surprise to see _you_ coming along, Lindsay."

Lindsay cocked her head to the side for a moment to indicate she heard him. "Thanks, Neal."

Neal had been about to ride with her dad and his friends before they set off, but had switched cars at the last second. Lindsay could guess why. She thought his crush on her was endearing, although hopefully she wouldn't have to reject him in a few years like she was getting used to doing with Nick. Guys could be a lot of trouble sometimes. She glanced at Daniel again and suppressed a laugh at his sour expression. "Looking forward to the convention?"

Daniel smirked. "Totally. You?"

Lindsay nodded and looked back out at the road. She was glad Daniel was coming along, at least – the two of them would probably have fun, even if the convention turned out to be boring, and while having Daniel around her parents on an extended basis would probably be embarrassing, she began to realize it would probably be _more_ embarrassing for him. And that would be amusing to watch.

It was a long way to New Jersey - and from the sound of it, her parents had planned a whole itinerary beyond the convention, turning the trip into more of a family vacation. So who knew what they would end up doing when they got there. This wasn't how she had anticipated spending the next few days, but she didn't mind a surprise now and then. As annoying as they could be sometimes, there were worse things than spending time with the ones you loved.

XX

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_**Notes:** That's it for the story. I thought I would upload the last chapter on Friday instead of waiting until Monday._

_I know Lindsay and Nick didn't get together, but I figured they wouldn't jump back into things so quickly. And in case anyone misinterpreted it, the last few paragraphs are not some kind of secret "oh, she gets with Daniel!" curve ball... I know how much people care about pairings, hehe, but I wasn't really going for any romantic developments in this story. I thought it would make sense for Lindsay to take some time for herself._

_Anyway, thanks for the reviews, and I hope you guys enjoyed the ending!_


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